


Sail

by OneEightSix



Category: Captain America, Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 03:12:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 26,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneEightSix/pseuds/OneEightSix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark mysteriously disappeared 4 weeks back on a regular op taking place in a rainy Sunday afternoon and disappeared. Finally, after a desperate search, he was found. Tony had been subjected to heavy torture, but by who, and why? No one knows. He hardly spoke a word of it since. But Steve is determined to get to the bottom of this, to bring the old Tony back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I: Broken

Steve's mouth was dry.

He found footsteps pacing through the corridors heavily, unbelieving and desperate. He tried to keep a straight face, but he knew that had disappeared some time ago. The corners of his eyes ran wet, and within seconds he was standing there, looking at him.

"Tony."

The name resonated from his lips. He'd spoken it a lot the passed few weeks; but only now was it to the actual person.

But he didn't respond.

He just stood, blankly – looking out from the penthouse of Stark Tower with his hands buried deep in is pockets. The super soldier stepped in, slowly, almost cautiously as he swallowed the lump in his throat – saving it for later.

"Tony."

He repeated more stern this time, louder, coaxing the billionaire to turn. But he just stood there with the same blank expression. Empty.

Steve turned; pacing through a few minor strides as his hand reached towards the shoulder, gently gripping it and shifting Tony to look at him.

And he did.

But he didn't.

His gaze was set on him, directly into his own vivid blue eyes but Tony stared almost through him. Like he was a million miles away but here.

Steve's expression softened. The kind of painful, dragging feeling that you experience when you look at something truly tragic. And he felt his heartstrings pull, Steve felt sick somewhere in his stomach.

"Tony, you're with me now." He said, forcing a weak and trembling smile. "You're not there anymore. It's okay. Can you talk to me?" But there was nothing, he just looked at him, stared with not a movement on his scratched face. "Tony," He repeated under his breath. "What did they do to you?"

And Tony's eyes finally blinked, the corners of his mouth twitched before the quietest of voices fell from his lips.

"Everything."


	2. II: Distance

It didn't take Tony all that long to begin to lose it.

How long had it been in here? 40? 50 days? They told him it was close to 3 months now. For all Tony knew, they were right.

His head swam as he felt the cold concrete floor pushing against his hollowing cheek. A fresh cut had begin to bleed, oozing thick red blobs across his face causing one eye to shut.

When had they done that? Did he do it to himself?

He didn't know anymore.

He could hear footsteps. But he just lay there. Defeated, broken. Tony Stark had kept his lips shut but his mind was breaking.

But he'd never tell them what they wanted.

Thick hands grabbed the thin strands of his dark hair. They tugged, and it hurt. Tony found a sound creeping out of his throat as his eyes shut as tight as they possibly could. He didn't want to be here anymore.

"Will you tell us?"

"No."

And the beatings came all over again. Sharp kicks to his stomach and he was sure last time they broke a few ribs. He coughed out coppery red and took what they gave. He was passed begging now, just letting them do what they wanted to do until they got tired and left.

A fresh and sickening crack was heard and Tony twitched in pain. A loud cry was heard from him, hand moving to his other wrist, which had horrifically been stomped on. Fresh purple had quickly begun to emerge and thick throbbing swells encased around it.

How many broken bones was that now? 14? 10? He hadn't lost count. He'd lost track. He couldn't remember when the last one came or even if it existed anymore.

He was losing his mind.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve just watched as Tony slipped. He seemed to be mumbling something under his breath, the super soldier clinging onto his shoulders, trying to keep him in place for him to just stay and tell him everything.

But this was regular now. Tony would live in memories of God knows what; and he'd only answer to certain questions.

Last night, when Natasha had given him a talking to, he just looked at her, fragile and she couldn't do it. The hardened Black Widow couldn't look at him anymore.

She had concluded to Steve that if Tony ever recovered, he'd never be the same.

"Tony, it's me. Steve. Come on." He brushed fingers across the healing face, texture rough and smooth. The strange contrast from having a cut up face in the middle of healing. "Talk to me."

Tony was still quiet, hands still burrowed deep in his pockets and the blank stare falling past him. No one had gotten a word out of the billionaire. Not until now.

No matter how many times Steve called his name, or told the inventor he was here, Tony didn't respond.

The wet forms in the corners of his eyes began to slowly drop across his cheek as seeing Tony, the life of every party to just look at him as if nothing was there anymore.

"No." Tony said.

Steve picked his eyes up, confusion washing over him as he just looked at the dark haired man. "What?"

"I won't tell you." Tony pressed his lips together tightly, when his eyes finally focused on Steve. "I won't tell you anything."

"Why?"

But Tony's brows furrowed. He just looked at the soldier and waited. Waited for something that Steve didn't know. His fingertips brushed against Tony's shoulders, rubbing across them before he pulled the other into a tight embrace. Careful of the broken ribs that had been carefully bandaged the night prior.

"Please talk to me."

Tony remained still, not flinching if the hug had hurt; but stayed completely motionless and expressionless. Like all the warmth had been squeezed out of him and there was nothing left.

He didn't say anything.


	3. III: Marble

Steve wasn't sure if Tony was living or on autopilot. He'd wake up, eat something small and dry, like a cracker or toast with no butter. Got a shower, got dressed and stared for the rest of the day.

If someone made him something, he didn't eat it. And Steve watched over the passing days as the weight struggled to stay on him.

Pepper had taken over the company, and was running it fine. There were no problems there. Research and development had took a standstill without the inventors brilliant mind, but they had the Arc blue prints and had begun to set up in major cities for clean energy.

Pepper tried talking to Tony. She's told him about what he'd missed, and how sad she was. She expected Tony to jump right out of it, smile, and tell her the next wave of ideas. But he just stared.

She cried that night, and there was little they could do for her.

 

* * *

 

 

"Are you sure he spoke to you?"

"Yes."

"Just those words?"

"Yes."

"Was it more of a groan? Or a noise?"

"I know what I heard, Doc. Tony spoke."

The psychiatrist seemed annoyed with Steve. He would have given her an apology, but she was being condescending. He stared at her and the sullen expression plastered across her face. Another hour of Tony just sitting there, saying nothing.

Steve's eyes fell to him; he'd taken it upon himself to bring Tony here, every other day. It didn't matter how busy Steve was, he'd find the time to bring the man here.

Tony sat, exactly where he had been for the last hour, staring at his hands. His fingers had been relieved of bandages now, the same for the ones that fell across his head. He was healing slowly, but getting there.

"Well, he won't speak a single word to me." She flicked the chestnut hair from her shoulder and folded her arms. It was clear to Steve that she wasn't used to not getting her own way - and more annoyed that Steve coaxed some words out of him.

"He hasn't said anything to me since. He just said that he wouldn't tell me anything."

"That's what worries me," She added plainly. Her eyes drifted to Tony, how never stopped staring, like he was reading something invisible in his palms. "I know he's out of…Where ever he was, but his head isn't."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is, I think Tony has retreated inside his head somewhere. Somewhere so deep that any voice that reaches his ears is his captor." She turned back to Steve, a faint smile ghosting across her lips. "He thinks he's still there, and we're fishing for information."

Steve could believe that. In the war, he'd seen men break in two and go crazy. Most scratched at walls or screamed frantically. But Tony just sat there, calm, staring - and it was unnerving.

"How do we get him out?"

"That's the question." She gave a small sigh, looking at the inventor. "The mind is as big as the creator makes it, Mr. Rogers. Mr. Stark could be so far in there's no recovering from it. I need a bit longer to examine him, if he needs shock treatment or something else. If you can get him to talk, try a more… 'Captain America' approach. Something that deduct as you."

He walked Tony to the psychiatrists. There and back, hoping that the familiar streets and walkways would spark something in him.

Steve once bought him a hotdog, but like all the food he was given – he didn't eat it.

It was cold, on the brink of winter. Breath seemed to condense in the air and Steve tugged the collars of Tony's coat – tucking in his scarf to give him some warmth.

Tony would follow you, Steve found out. If you said his name and walked, so would he.

The streets were icy, causing kids to run as fast as they could and slide across the iced tarmac with a competitive grin to the other. Steve couldn't help but be hit with a little nostalgia. When he was younger, he'd watch Bucky do the same.

He never got the chance though.

He watched the kids, laughing, one slipping onto his side causing high pitched roaring laughter from the others. The soldier couldn't help but smile with them, and turned to Tony to see if by some miracle, he was smiling too.

But he was gone.

Panic surged somewhere inside of Steve, glancing horribly through the frosted trees and grass of central park; looking for the dark mess of hair, the blank expression, anything.

But he was alone.

"Tony?" He called out, eyes scanning the area. He couldn't have gotten far – and he wouldn't consider that from right under his nose he was snatched away again. Even if he were, what would they get from him now?

"Tony!"

He shouted louder this time, hoping for some stupid call back, or for the billionaire to follow him like he usually did. Adrenaline fell across his stomach as he wanted to run – but where? What direction could he have gone to? He took a few desperate steps with his head snapping left and right.

Then his eyes found a hunched figure, the same black coat and high collars that he'd fixed before. Steve's leg pushed him, half slipping in slight desperation but was cautious. It wasn't uncommon for people to have the same coat.

The familiar bed of messy black hair and healing hands was enough for the soldier. He moved his hand to Tony's shoulder, squeezing it with a small sigh of relief.

"You scared me," Steve confessed. "Why would you wonder off like that?"

Silence wasn't uncommon, and Steve had learned to hurt less when Tony didn't answer him. But he was crouched on the floor, elbows moving every so often and Steve frowned. This was the first time he'd seen Tony actually do something other than stare.

Shifting across his side, he couldn't help but soften his features.

A grey cat lay on it's back, pawing gently against Tony's fingertips. The billionaire had just enough 'smile' on his face as there probably ever was going to be in his current state. The cat rolled, determined to hit at the billionaire's fingers as he pawed at his fingers.

"I never knew you liked cats, Tony." Steve smiled, crouching down next to him. The cat was owned, a thick jeweled collar across it's neck in which Steve deducted the cat was a she. Moving his hands to the cat's collar, he caught a flicker of the name-tag. "She's called Marble."

"Marble." Tony repeated. "I like her."

Steve took a good, long look at him. His thoughts returned to the psychiatrist, who was persistent Steve heard noises instead of words – but those were words.

"She's cute," Steve smiled, passing off the conversation as if it was normal. "Her coat's so shiny. Her owner must love her very much."

"There's a theory involving cats," Tony muttered. The cat had given up trying to paw at his fingers, and instead purred loudly as she rubbed her head against his knuckles. "Schrödinger's theory." The kids soon erupted with laughter, causing the ears of the cat to perk up and glance in the direction – and Tony just watched her, carefully. "A cat in a box. Alive and dead. Both theories exist at the same time, rather than if we look into the box, the cat is either, or."

He paused, Marble soon scampering away causing the broken genius to stand and watch.

This was the most words he'd heard Tony say since captivity. He was babbling a theory Steve had never really heard of before, but it made sense.

He took Tony home after that; sub consciously made him a hot chocolate that he knew he wouldn't touch. Placed a blanket over his sitting form on the sofa and watched Tony drift into the same staring empty man he was earlier.

He sat opposite, waiting for something, maybe. The low babbling of some Sunday morning Cartoons played off in the background and Steve just watched Tony.

Without looking in the box, the cat could be alive or dead.

Both theories existed at the same time unless you looked.

This difference between 'and' and 'or'.


	4. IV: Romanoff

Tony knew, when he woke up he was in trouble.

His eyes glanced feverishly around; given what he could muster, he was in a dark, windowless damp room. It was a complete box, and only as big as about two average sized men lying on the floor either way.

He rolled to his side and his breath hitched. That didn't seem too great.

He'd been in bad situations before. The fact he could see in this room was the bright blue glow that fell from his chest. It was an empty, almost concrete room. How original.

He let himself move, pick himself up and test standing – it was good he didn't wake up with anything too bad, just the traces of what felt like a bruised side.

There must be a camera somewhere, because moments after he woke up, someone walked in. A heavy metal door that sounded like a hundred locks to open up.

A small figure, really. Not menacing at all. Covered head with the typical balaclava, but also a mask. A pig one no less and Tony grimaced, he'd only ever seen those in some sick psychopaths sex fetish videos – The last time he opened a video on some shady internet forum.

"Tony Stark."

The voice was muffled, but somewhat familiar. But Tony knew a lot of people, it was as good as anyone.

"…Yes?" He answered, trying to see through what light his chest emitted to see if this guy was armed. He was.

"Do you know why you're here?"

"Not for the beds, I'm sure."

A small, grunted laugh came from the pig-man. Tony deducted he held a baton in his hand – police issue. The guy had some connections or maybe killed an officer. It was too vague to speculate. He was sure that this guy would have a concealed gun somewhere, probably locked and hidden in case Tony tried to play it smart and grab it.

He was thinking about it after all.

"I want to talk." The pig scoffed, pacing from side to side. Freedom was just a few steps away as the door hung open, to a dimly lit corridor. "I want you to tell me everything."

"About?" Tony mused him, trying to formulate a plan. He was in his armor not too long ago, it had to be nearby. How did they even get it off of him?

"You," He responded simply. "I want to know about you."

"Uh," Tony paused, mouth shutting rather quickly with a perked brow. "… Look, if this is some weird way to try and make me swoon with Stockholm syndrome you have another thing coming."

"If you don't tell me about you," the pig-man responded rather simply. "I'll break something."

 

* * *

 

Natasha had been charged with watching Tony for a while, giving Steve some space. She heard about his words, theories, and had regular reports from the psychiatrists.

Tony just wasn't getting better, and when it seemed like he was, he'd just retreat into that wonderful mind of his.

He sat, looking at the coffee he had made himself. Steve had warned her that Tony wouldn't eat or drink anything from other people, but he was more the capable of getting drinks for himself. It was just the eating that was the problem.

"Hey, Tony." She offered a fake smile - one she'd worn through many interrogations in her time. She wanted to give Stark a real one, but couldn't. There was nothing to smile about here. "Want to talk about anything?"

He didn't answer. She expected that much. Instead she tried a different approach, hands slinking across his shoulders with slender fingers rubbing gently against the knots tied somewhere in his muscle tissue. He didn't move.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" She let her voice lower to a whisper. Fingers wrapping in circles and she felt his muscles relax. To her, that was getting somewhere. "I just want to hear you speak to me."

"Pepper." He muttered, causing her to almost freeze with surprise. "Do they still have Pepper?" He kept his eyes on his coffee staring at it as if it held the answer.

"… No one's got Pepper." He responded quite simply. "No one has ever had Pepper. She's been here with us, waiting for you."

He went quiet again. As if he didn't want to ask any more questions. But Natasha wasn't as forgiving as Steve. She would push. And she did.

Her fingers trod in light brushes past his shoulders, arms hooking across her neck as she pressed her warmth against him, whispering into his ear softly.

"Why? Who said Pepper was anywhere?"

Tony was stubbornly quiet. He didn't flinch from her touch, or move away. He let her do what she wanted, his eyes just staring down into the cup of coffee that was already cold. He'd hardly drank from it.

"She was here the other day. She spoke to you, don't you remember?"

"Yeah."

"So, why do you ask if they still have her?"

"Because she's with them, to keep me alive."

Natasha found her arms uncoiling from him. She hadn't considered that this was an inside job. She thumbed nervously for once – her and Pepper got on to some degree, she'd worked closely with the woman and always wanted the best for Tony.

"What did she do?"

"She slept with them. I watched."

Natasha felt sick to her stomach. She was no stranger to torture, she'd seen bad things happen to good people; but something like this shouldn't happen on home ground. She moved in front of him, turning his head so he'd look at her. He was blank, unreadable, eyes distant like they had been for the past week and a half.

"What else?"

She knew this was hard for him, but she needed more information.

He didn't answer. He went quiet again, retreated. He'd always do that after so long.

Her fingertips brushed across his beard. It was perfectly cut, one of the things Clint had done when they found him. He said it was weird to see him overgrown at the chin. He didn't do a too bad of a job after all. Hairs were beginning to grow back though; she'd call Clint in to do it again. They all looked after their own.

She stared at him for that moment before she finally let go. The Black Widow leaned down and pressed her lips lightly on the top of his head.

"We'll fix this," She spoke softly to the strands. It was hard to see the billionaire just look at her, broken, forgone and distant.

She removed herself, deciding that was enough guilty feelings that she would allow herself for the time being. Instead she flipped out her phone, pressing a button and listening closely.

When the call was answered, there was no greeting.

"I need Pepper Potts to be watched carefully for the next few days." She spoke silently, turning her face to Tony's who just looked back at his coffee. "She's our lead."

Steve didn't stay away for long. He was walking in on Natasha, who was pouring Tony warmed coffee that she and he knew he wouldn't touch. She smiled at Steve and he smiled back.

"Will you drink your coffee, Tony?" Natasha said rather simply. "You made it, I just poured it."

Steve was ready to just watch it all go to hell again. Watch Tony refuse to drink it, sit there and stare. But he lifted his hand, curling across the cup slowly, before he lifted it to his lips. He tested it, smelled it, stuck his tongue into it and waited. Then he took a sip, putting the cup down and Natasha breathed a sigh of relief.

"…Tasha that's…" Steve began.

"It's taken a few hours. But as long as he makes it and you pour it, he'll drink it."

She moved her hand to his hair, brushing across the dark strands – and Steve knew she was more than concerned.

"Anything else?"

"Yes." She replied dryly. "It might have been an inside job."

He watched Tony lift the cup to his lips again, taking a bigger drink this time. There was some food on a plate, a sandwich that looked like it had been held with the dimples in the crust but never eaten. Maybe she tried a step further and failed.

"Inside?" Steve repeated. Who would do this to Tony?

"Pepper," She responded shortly. "Tony said that Pepper slept with them to keep him alive."

Steve felt his whole world reel.

Pepper was in bits when Tony was taken. The second time, and she couldn't do anything. She had been right there at the tower, or busy with running the company in his absence.

"No," Steve responded. "No way."

"I thought the same. But that's our only lead."

Steve looked at Tony, couching down and grasping his hand. The inventor turned his head, looking at Steve and through him at the same time.

"Are you sure that was real? Tony?" He questioned, rubbing his thumb against his knuckles. "Are you sure it was Pepper?"

He didn't answer, just looked at him again causing Steve to get almost frustrated. There was no way Pepper would do this, Tony must be somewhere dark in his head.

"We're not accusing her yet." Natasha spoke clearly, as she always did. "We know Tony isn't in the right frame of mind, but it's our only opening until he talks more."

"I refuse to believe Pepper was in on this." Steve almost spat his words. Of course he was angry, either Tony was lying or Pepper was dirty. Both options he hated.

"He said he watched, Steve."

Those words was enough to cause Steve to sit down heavily next to Tony, who was taking another sip of his coffee, oblivious to what was being said.

"This is Pepper, Tony. Pepper." He whispered. Natasha rolled her eyes, placing the coffee set down before, grabbing her coat.

Tony didn't say anything else.

"What happens now?" Steve asked as he walked her to the door. "To Pepper?"

"We observe her. Get some information. Then we question her." She took a good long look at Steve. He always saw the best in people and never the worst. "We're not accusing her of anything yet. If she has nothing to hide, there's nothing to worry about."

"Right," Steve nodded. She was right after all. She gave a slight smile, stepping out into the icy streets before turning on her heel.

"Look after him, Steve."


	5. V: Trust

Pepper was taken in, eventually.

Steve had to stand there, with the rest of the team (Minus Tony, who sat outside with Maria for a couple of minutes) and watch the interrogation.

It happened with a different agent, one Pepper wouldn't know.

They asked a number of things. Where she was at specified dates, and soon getting onto the questions of what she would do to protect Tony.

She started out calm, at first. Answering willingly and happily. But as the accusations continued, she got more frantic, upset.

She denied it all.

Pepper was half through sobs when she admitted she would do anything to save Tony, that despite their break-up, they always needed each other and loved each other in a platonic way.

She would have done it, she'd confessed, to save him.

But this time, it wasn't her.

The interrogation lasted for approximately 3 hours and 23 minutes.

Pepper had calmed down near the end, silently sniffing, but not out of anger.

Steve thought she felt betrayed.

 

* * *

 

It was during the second week of Tony being home, did Clint start to make a regular appearance. He came over, spoke to the absent Tony about things happening in his life. Women, feelings for Natasha, drinking, the team – everything. He did this all whilst shaving his beard, tentatively, and with precision. He'd gotten better at it.

Steve thought it would have been easier to take him to a barber, but Clint needed time with Tony. After all, they were friends with him too. They cared no less than Steve did.

"Really, you should come out for a drink sometime," Clint said, carefully lifting Tony's chin and scraping the razor across his cheek. "When you're feeling better. First rounds on me, alright?" His eyes softened when Tony just stared blankly to the door-frame. It was nothing out of the usual now – but it shouldn't be usual. Clint sighed, defeated but still talking anyway.

Steve just stayed in the kitchen, letting Clint take his time with Tony. So far, Tony had spoken a word since. Pepper hadn't been allowed to directly talk to Tony until her name was cleared by Tony's mouth. She said she understood, but Steve knew it hurt her.

Clint walked out, cocking his head and calling Tony's name, who got up and followed him. The Hawk's hand moved to his shoulders, guiding him to sit down; which Tony complied.

"There you are, Stark." He gave him a small pat, before looking at Steve. Tony blankly stared at the coffee and it was almost frightening how people took this as the norm now. Tony was one of the sharpest minds that Clint knew – who could actually break him like that?

"Thanks, Clint." Steve smiled, moving to the coffee pot. "Want a drink?"

"Nah." Clint shook his head and wrinkled his nose. "I should get going."

"Ah, Yeah…" Steve gave a guilty look at his own hands. He'd taken it upon himself to be with Tony almost every second of the day since Pepper couldn't be anymore. It meant more SHIELD work for Natasha and Clint, but they didn't seem to mind.

"Alright, Tony." Clint gave a smile to him, hand pressing into his hair and ruffling it. Tony didn't move, or shift his expression. The same old thing. "I gotta go, but I'll be back soon." He gave him a small smile, before grabbing his coat. Tony glanced up, and Steve watched, lips parting as he waited.

"Thanks."

Clint turned, having not heard Tony actually talk since the whole incident. He paused and looked at Steve. Steve cocked his head, urging him to just talk normally to him.

"No problem," Clint said nervously. "So, I'll see you around, okay?"

But Tony said nothing.

Clint left with a mixture of happiness and disappointment. He wasn't used to the silence like Natasha and he was.

The progress was slow, almost literally at a stand still; but Tony was in there somewhere.

He took a seat next to him, looking at the blank genius before moving his hand across his fingers with a smile.

"How are you, today?" He asked casually, hoping for some kind of response each time. There wasn't one. "You look better now that Clint's shaved your beard."

Tony kept his eyes on the table, not really moving from it.

"How about we go out tomorrow?"

Steve gave a small sigh. Sometimes it chipped away at him more than he'd like to admit. He mulled over the Cat theory that Tony had said, the most words he'd stringed together and the most sense he's talked about since.

He didn't know what Tony meant by it though.

They sat in silence, before Steve moved to make them both hot chocolate. He knew Tony wouldn't touch it, but he always did it out of kindness. He gave them whipped cream, the works. He loved it in the coming colder months.

Placing one in front of Tony, he offered a short smile to the blank man. Steve turned to his own, scooping the cream with his finger and taking a small lick from it.

Steve had done this a few times, but usually with a spoon. He sort of just wanted to feel it. It took a few times before he noticed Tony watching him. Not him directly, but his finger.

Steve waggled it, moved it up and down, and sure enough Tony was watching it.

"Tony?" He asked, half not knowing what exactly to ask. "You should… Try it too." He offered a small smile to the genius. "It's good."

But Tony didn't look at his, he just watched Steve's finger.

It was weird for Steve, since Tony just stared blankly for the past 2 weeks and said very little, but here he was just watching him.

So Steve tried something.

He dipped his finger into his cream, and offered it to Tony.

The small coil of Tony's hands on the table, and a shy leaning forward motion almost caused Steve to stiffen and freeze. The billionaire slowly extended his tongue, and licked the cream from his fingers.

Steve felt a small confusion wash over him.

This was good progress, he was taking something offered by another person. But this was his finger – Maybe he should have tried a spoon first.

Tony lapped it up though, eyes staring low at it, and when he was done, he fell back to his seat.

Steve coughed, fingers sticky with remnants of cream and saliva. He gave a short blush, he didn't realize he was doing it, but it was a bizarre sensation.

Tony was looking at him now, still distant, expressionless and unmoving.

He coughed, Tony didn't know what he was doing. He shifted and stretched for a teaspoon from the counter. He took a small bit of cream from the others mug and onto the spoon, then held it out for him.

The billionaire didn't respond directly, but his eyes moved from the spoon, and back to Steve. The soldier merely gave a short smile, before taking the spoon and licking the cream himself, and then holding it out to him for the second time.

Tony then, slowly and cautiously let the spoon into his mouth, and wiped it clean with his lips.

Steve felt his heart swell into his chest.

"It's good, right?" he gave a smile, lowering the spoon and taking another swipe from Tony's hot chocolate. Sure enough, and with less hesitation; he took some.

Of course Steve was excited for this new development. It took them over two weeks to get to the stage where he trusted them enough to hand feed him. It was late into the evening now, and Steve just watched as Tony sat watching TV. Usually it was cartoons or some reality show, he only watched what you'd put on for him.

Steve chose carefully, not wanting to trigger anything that would cause the billionaire to slip back into his mind. He was slowly coming out, he could feel it; but they had to take their time – smaller than baby steps.

They both sat watching some 60-second news bulletin that came briefly between programs on that particular channel. Although the business with Pepper was something Steve completely disagreed with; SHIELD kept everything very tight-quiet, meaning Pepper's name wasn't dragged through the dirt by the press.

Tony had made it off the news recently. A lot of people talking about his condition which, of course, very select few knew. So the press had gone crazy with accusations but that all seemed to die down now. Sometimes, Steve thought, this world moved too fast. But for once he was thankful for it.

A late night cartoon came on, adult humor and all that. He chose comedy over anything else. Surround Tony with something positive. But he sat there, staring at the images but not really watching them.

Steve wondered what Tony was doing in there.

Dreaming? Thinking? Or was he really as blank as his face?

The form beside him shifted, which wasn't uncommon. Tony left for bed when he wanted, went to shower or use the bathroom when he wanted, so movement beside Steve wasn't rare. He gave a smile, turning his head to ask Tony if he was going to bed – of course he'd be answered with silence.

But the inventor's head pressed against his arm, and his eyes closed.

Steve froze, Tony hadn't physically touched anyone by himself in the past 2 weeks, and now here he was, leaning on his arm.

His hair was soft, gentle against the skin of his short-sleeved shirt, skin healing nicely. Soon it'll look like Tony wasn't captured at all.

"Tony?" he whispered.

"Yeah."

Steve didn't know what to say. When he spoke his name like that, he'd never got an answer before. He didn't want to alienate his advances, since this was Tony, Tony Stark coming back to him – or he thought that at least.

"Are you tired? Do you want to go to bed?"

"No. Stay."

And Steve's heart warmed.

"Sure."


	6. VI: The Investigation

He watched as dirty hands grasped the silky skin. He could hear the muffled pleasured moans fill his ear and he wished he was blind and deaf.

Red hair was gripped in those hands, as the pig mercilessly grinded into her in front of him.

This was the fourth time.

Tony had given up shouting, telling Pepper to not subject to this, to go home, get help. His voice burned and he swore his throat was scarred with shouting for so long. Instead, his mind went blank as he watched her.

He never got to see her face.

She always wore a mask, it seemed the theme around here.

She wore one of those kids ones, the Iron Man one's that they sold.

He could hear her breath hit the plastic. She sounded like she was enjoying it.

He tried not looking, tried anything, fall asleep, knock himself out. But nothing worked. She'd moan louder, or the sound of skin slapping on skin got worse.

The pig grunted on her, hands over her body, which fueled Tony's rage to no end.

No pig should be allowed to touch Pepper.

Pepper was his once; he remembered her body well enough.

No one should know those moans, or the way her back arches. Not unless they loved her, took care of her.

Him and Pepper may have been through, but that didn't mean he didn't love her anymore.

He felt another part of him become undone as the pig dug harder inside her. They kept most of the clothes on.

Then it started. Tony banged his head against the concrete wall he was bolted in to. He did it over and over and over. It hurt, but black edges were starting to come across his vision.

Pretty soon, he couldn't see or hear anything.

 

* * *

 

Steve had walked into SHIELD, it was week 4 of the investigation, and since Tony's little incident on the sofa, he'd been able to eat a lot more – if and only Steve offered him the food and took a bite of it prior.

He still didn't speak a lot. But he answered sometimes. Said 'okay' or something a long those lines.

Fury decided it was enough to try and coax more information out of him whilst Pepper was under strict surveillance.

The psychiatrist never got so much as a peep out of Tony, but he followed Steve now without even being asked to. Stood never too far away from him and was quiet.

Today was no exception.

SHIELD had places everywhere, even a small office downtown. That's where Steve led Tony today. He'd taken Tony to more places. Parks, the zoo, even the small fair ground that dared to show up in the weather.

Tony just followed him, never got on anything, didn't feed any animals. He just stood near Steve, eyes down and distant still.

The weather had taken a dramatic dip and it was getting colder by the day. They where expecting snow soon. The cold always agitated the soldier. Brushed him the wrong way, but the snow itself was beautiful.

A lot of people thought he was afraid of it, or hated it. He didn't mind it so much as long as he wasn't frozen for another 70 years. He'd just made a life here.

Steve moved in, Tony not far behind. He gave a small smile to Natasha who waited at the head office. It seemed just like a police officers. Several small desks containing agents, but in more casual clothes.

Natasha mentioned something about this being a more intimate team, that SHIELD had them based in almost every major city. Like a network that fed information. It made sense.

"Steve, Tony." She nodded with a small smile on her lips.

"Natasha." Steve smiled warmly, but Tony didn't say anything.

"Hello, Tony."

"Hello."

They had to be direct with Tony. You couldn't speak to him and another at the same time. If you wanted a response, you had to be direct. Even then, he only responded to the Avengers. Never to anyone else.

They led Tony into a small boxed off interrogation room. Steve stood behind him as he sat down, and placed his hands on Tony's shoulder. He felt what tensed muscles where there - loosen at his touch and he let his thumb take in small circles across his shoulders.

Natasha sat opposite, leaning forwards and taking Tony's hands with hers. Fury had expressed that Natasha had already tried and failed twice to bring Tony to talk, and to bring in a different agent. But Maria had argued Tony's psych reports and how he didn't respond to anyone but the Avengers. Reluctantly, Fury agreed.

Tony was still dressed in warmed coat, scarf, and thick gloves he hadn't taken off. He wouldn't have even put them on if Steve hadn't done so before they left.

"Tony?" She said softly, her own hands taking warmth from Tony's. He didn't say anything, only lifted his eyes to her, which caused red curls to fall from her shoulder with a tilt of her head. "Can you talk about what happened?"

"No."

The response gave a short sigh from Steve, who found it hard not to say anything at all. He wanted to coax him, urge him on. A guilty part of the super-soldier told him that he was the most trusted out of all of them.

"We need to know, to stop the men who did this to you." She was gentle with her words, like silk. Like everything she said was just a safety net that you'd land on no matter what you confessed.

"Pepper." He replied dryly.

"We talked to Pepper, she said it wasn't her."

Tony's eyes glanced down, and he didn't say anything.

"Tony, can you tell us what they wanted from you? Why they took you?"

"They wanted to know about me."

"Why?"

"To break me."

"Are you broken?"

Silence after that. Steve had half wanted to stop her from asking. He could feel Tony tense up with each question, like locking himself away. They'd already gotten him to eat and drink (as reluctant as that might be) and he was making slow but good progress.

"Marble."

And Natasha looked confused. She allowed herself to show emotions on her face, be completely open with Tony. What she had on her face was real – not false. Steve could tell, he knew her well enough.

"You mean the cat, Tony?" Steve asked, leaning forwards if only a little to catch his face.

"In the box." Tony shifted his eyes to Steve. "Not alive or dead until you look."

"Schrödinger's theory?" Natasha frowned. She'd heard of it before, but what did that have to do with anything? "You want us to look inside your head to see if you are there?"

"No."

"Can you just tell us?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because of Marble."

 

* * *

 

"I'm calling in Banner." Natasha admitted. She sat in what seemed like a mess hall for the SHIELD network agents, homely, warm but still too standard for Steve's liking. Too sterile. Too fake.

"You think that will help?" Steve asked quietly, pushing some food towards Tony. He took a small bite out of the tuna sandwich that was put before him, and had given it to Tony. Sure enough, Tony watched Steve, and then began to eat it.

"Whoever did this to Tony was really something." She watched Tony eat, the first time Steve had done it, she almost felt her eyes well up with some happiness. He wasn't looking so skeletal anymore. It was a good sign. "Tony is the sharpest mind I know. If he was able to break him like this…"

"Tony's leaving us a clue though." Steve expressed, letting his hands warm across his sweetened coffee. "The cat."

"That's why I'm calling in Banner." Natasha flicked a finger towards Steve, stating as-a-matter-of-fact. "He's the closest thing we have to Tony's mind."

Steve felt something riddle up his spine like jealousy. Bruce and Tony spent a few months in R+D, they'd gotten close, but eventually Bruce decided to travel a bit, knowing he had a home back where Tony was. He remembered Tony was 'upset' when he left.

He gave the stiffened collar look and just shut down any question when it came to Bruce.

"Yeah," Steve smiled simply. "Maybe he can help."

Natasha's eyes fell across Tony as he worked his way through the second half of the sandwich, those eyes still distant and staring down.

"Do you think we'll ever get the old Tony back?" She gave a small smile whilst looking at him. "Never thought I'd say I would miss him but…"

"We will." Steve said reassuringly. "We will because Tony's in there, somewhere. And he'll come back to us. Won't you, Tony?"

"Yes." Tony replied simply.


	7. VII: The Box

Bruce arrived just when it had started snowing.

He seemed a lot healthier; more relaxed which to Steve was a very good thing.

He seemed to have been briefed on everything, but was still in high spirits.

Maybe Bruce believed in Tony more than anyone else.

When he arrived, he'd taken his time to meet and greet everyone. It had been a while and he was determined not to let whatever had gone down in Tony's head be a dampener. That wasn't to say he wasn't eager to help, he constantly asked where Tony was when he'd arrived.

But when he saw the billionaire, Steve didn't think anything could prepare him for it. Bruce greeted him, and Tony said hello. But there was no excitement, not thrill of seeing an old friend.

Nothing.

The snow was light outside, the stretches of winter starting to run deep. Bruce said he wasn't used to the cold anymore, which meant he was somewhere warm and nice. Natasha said that all information on Bruce's whereabouts – even when Tony inquired – was under wraps.

Give him some space.

It was nice to see him again.

 

* * *

 

Tony sat watching some early Christmas movie they'd put on. It wasn't for a while yet, but it involved Santa losing an elf in a workshop and the elf being used by a corrupt toy maker back in New York. It was a light-hearted film, despite the underlying tone of someone being used.

Tony had gained some weight back, nothing substantial but he looked healthy enough physically. He sat and slowly ate some pancakes Steve had learned to do. He wasn't that great of a cook until recently.

"I've finally caught up," Bruce's voice came from behind Steve who was busy working the dishwasher. (He felt proud that he'd gotten to grips with the damned things. Machines could do anything nowadays).

Bruce held a small PDA in his hand – probably Tony's or one he gave to him, cycling through all the information and processing it all.

"You guys found him just wondering around?" Bruce perked a brow, the screen reflecting off his glasses. Steve could see words, like papers having been scanned into the machine.

"Yeah. He was walking along Central Park when we found him." Steve wasn't present when some SHIELD agents noted it. "Despite his injuries, he was just walking around."

"Yeah, typical Tony, huh?" Bruce issued a small smile, taking a seat next to the billionaire and cycling through more of the documents. It was like he was re-reading things, as if a clue was there. Steve was convinced it was the cat thing.

"Thought of anything?" Steve questioned rather impatiently. Banner had been here for two days, processing things after the small meet and greet. It was clear he was heart-broken over seeing Tony for the first time, Steve was glad he didn't see him before he started talking in that case.

"The theory with the cat is a reoccurring issue." He stated, not really looking up. "Tony wouldn't repeat that because he's crazy. He made an Iron suit in a cave – that's crazy." It was finally did his eyes lift, turning to the billionaire who just ate silently, watching the film. "What Tony's done, is retreat into himself, to save himself. I think."

"That's what the psychiatrist thought. But he won't speak to her." He gave a smug feeling at that. Each time Steve took Tony to see her, Tony just sat still and said nothing. Pretty soon they took that option off the list and they didn't see her anymore. Progress was being made at home.

"Yeah, this is what interests me. Tony speaks to us, and only us." Bruce lifted his eyes to Steve, of whom had pressed his palms against the kitchen counter in interest. "You, Natasha and Clint have all seen him regularly and he talks to you. He see's the psychiatrist who he's seen a lot, and says nothing."

Steve frowned, Banner was repeating things –and although this was probably for his own sake, he just wanted to hear how Tony got better.

"Tony," Bruce smiled. The Billionaire turned his head, eyes still and always distant. "How where the pancakes?"

"Good."

Bruce turned his head back to Steve with a small shrug. "Tony is in there. Because he recognizes us. He answers to us. His team, the people who he trusts." He watched as Tony just looked at Banner, as if he was actually listening. "So, the cat message was meant for us."

Steve was still frowning. It made sense what Bruce had said, and even though he hadn't exactly thought about that – he was sure that he could have concluded the same. "Okay," Steve nodded in agreement. "So what do you get about the cat?"

"It's a way of telling us he's still in there."

"Yes." Tony responded.

Bruce found his smile almost become warmer. He turned himself fully to Tony, and took his hands in his.

"Because they let you go, didn't they Tony?"

"Yes."

"Because you gave them the theory that you broke."

It was hesitant, a lot of space between the end of Bruce's sentence and Tony's words. "Yes."

"You let them think they broke you, and they let you go."

"Yes."

"But you let us know you're not."

"Yes."

Steve found himself getting it, but not at the same time. He was astounded that Tony was answering this, and if he could hear Bruce talking, making sense with his own theory, why wasn't he fully there yet?

Steve felt a surge of panic, like the old Tony was actually dead somewhere. But then that didn't make sense with what Bruce had just said.

"I don't get it," Steve frowned. "Tony's there but not?"

"No. It's impossible to be dead or alive at the same time. But what Schrödinger did was a paradox." Bruce was happy his hunch had been correct, sighing and letting his shoulders sag as if he'd been tense for a while. "Tony created a paradox to get out. He locked himself up, shut himself off and gave an illusion of what his captor's wanted."

Then Bruce stopped, staring into the distant eyes before moving a tentative finger underneath Tony's chin and lifting his head.

"What did they want, Tony?"

"Me."

Steve found as if they get a few steps ahead, they took a hundred back. Bruce had figured out why Tony was the way he was – it was self-inflicted to save himself. But now what? Did they get him? Why would they want him and let him go? How do they get Tony out?

Frustration was starting to peak and it was like one winding corridor after another.

"Bruce." Steve said, trying to sound calm. "How do we get Tony out of the box?"

"I…" Bruce looked at Tony, brows lifting upward. "Can you tell us the trigger, Tony?"

But Tony went quiet. His eyes dropped down and Bruce let out a heavy sigh.

"I need more time." He stated. "But this is where it gets dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Steve questioned.

"Tony locked himself in there to avoid being cracked into." Banner moved his eyes completely to Steve, staring straight at him. "It's a last resort, I think. What he could and only do when he was there. He was tortured, but I think it was something completely messed up that drove him to the edge."

"Pepper?" Steve muttered quietly. He honestly believed that she had nothing to do with it. She could have liquidated the company with Tony of sane mind already if she wanted. There was just no motive.

"Possibly. " Bruce shrugged. "But think about it. Tony doesn't give off any emotions, does he? When we open that box, it's gonna all come pouring out." Bruce gave a moment, sighing smoothly to himself.

"Can of worms."


	8. VIII: Emptied

Tony was out of options.

It started out with the questions – which Tony told. It could all have been found on Wikipedia, so who really cares?

But he wanted more.

The pig kept questioning about his dad, his life, everything that when on behind closed doors.

Like hell.

"I had the average rich boy life," Tony shrugged with a smile. "There's nothing interesting apart from getting the newest tech early and my dad being busy."

"Did he hurt you?" The pig replied. He'd taken a custom where he'd sit down on the other side of the box room and stab a knife into the floor, twisting it as Tony spoke.

"No," Tony shrugged it off. "Sure we used to fight, but who didn't?"

"What about when he neglected you?" The pig spoke slowly. "What about when he only took an interest because you where smart?"

Tony didn't show anything – in his days (which he spent a considerable amount of time and money in Vegas) he'd developed quite the poker face. It took more for him to sweat from people threatening his life.

This pig knew more than he let on.

He was patient, waiting for Tony to give in and tell him everything.

But why? What was the point?

Tony couldn't quite place his finger on it.

"Why are you asking me all this?" Tony shuffled, crossing his arms. "Surely you know it all already."

"I like talking to you," The man lifted his head, shrugging with a sense of purpose. "I want to be the closest person you've ever spoken to. It's for your own good to confess these things, Mr. Stark."

"Why can't you just threaten to kill me and force me to make you some tech? Or a ransom?"

"Because that isn't the plan."

"And… What is?"

 

* * *

 

What weird for Steve, was that Tony was a permanent part of his life now.

He'd sit and eat breakfast, follow him everywhere he went. Even if he went to the bathroom, Steve would have to tell him to either wait in his seat or the billionaire would follow him and sit outside the door patiently.

Steve had become the anchor for Tony to hold on to.

Steve never disappointed.

He would always taste test his meals, and it had gotten to the point in the last week where if Steve had cooked it, Tony would dig in without him having to check it. It was somewhat progress, but Bruce was still working on finding the 'trigger'.

A handful of days had turned up something, a crack in Tony's very elaborate plan; or more breadcrumbs for the Avengers to follow.

From what Steve could exactly gather from all this, was what Tony was now was self-inflicted. How or why wasn't exactly the issue right now, Tony was made a prisoner in his own mind to save it.

Like caging a bird and restricting it to fly when it's wing had been broken.

According to Bruce, Tony can get out of it. He just needs something called a 'trigger'. Something that will snap the walls down and bring Tony out of it.

But that would also bring the hours upon hours of torture he may have endured.

He didn't like that. It seemed to save Tony; they'd have to hurt him.

The snow was constant now. Falling through the night creating large mounds of snow to be pushed aside the street. Steve didn't really mind the snow all that much, he kind of wanted to have a snowball fight like he'd seen the kids play in the street.

Tony was just putting on his coat, slowly buttoning up and looking to Steve, almost waiting for more orders with what to do. Steve turned, brushing some hair from his face and straightening out the collars, tucking a warm scarf in there.

Steve's plan was to get him out as much as he could; cooping him up inside was never good, even for a more… Aware person.

"You ready to go for a walk in the snow?" He asked rather casually.

"Yes."

"Hey Tony," Tony lifted his head at his name. "Do you want to hang out with anyone else?"

"No."

Steve gave a short smile, ruffling the collar and tucking Tony in as best as he could.

"What about Bruce?"

Tony went quiet for a moment, his eyes shifting down. Tony's hand extended to Steve's arm and the billionaire pressed his head against Steve's shoulder.

"Just us."

Steve felt smug whilst he tightened the coat around Tony's neck. The thick black coat with a fluffy red scarf tucking the heat into the genius' body; Steve was satisfied with how well Tony was wrapped up. _Just them._

Steve pushed on some gloves to Tony's fingers, before tightening his own. Now both thoroughly wrapped up; Steve smiled at Tony, cocking his head and beckoning the genius to follow. He did.

"Do you like the snow, Tony?"

"It's okay."

"Really? You know, I thought I hated it for a while, with the way circumstances are."

Steve turned on his heel, walking from the tower with Tony close by his side. Normality dictated that employees would greet Tony, and were only met with either a quiet nod or just a blank stare. No one questioned it anymore.

The cold air hit them both hard, Steve even shuddering as Tony just stood still, as if he couldn't feel it, as if he wasn't there.

"Are you warm enough, Tony?"

"Yes."

Steve knew Tony had these days. Days were he wouldn't talk so much. He tucked his hands into his pockets as Tony walked close to his side, pressing into the streets of early Christmas shoppers rustling the streets with busy business men on their late lunch breaks. The streets were busy; Christmas lights being put up by neighborhoods and stores. It was beginning to feel more like Christmas every day now.

Steve wondered if Tony would be _Tony_ by Christmas.

Steve had no real destination today. Tony had been cooped up with either questions from SHIELD or with hot chocolate and movies. He figured today might be better to just get some air before they either get snowed in or Tony wouldn't want to go out anymore.

"Where do you want to go today?"

"The park."

Steve looked at the billionaire, who looked at him back. In all honesty, he wasn't expecting Tony to just answer outright. It brought a smile to Steve's face as he cut corners on a street, changing their path to the park itself and half grasping Tony's forearm to keep him close within the crowd. It took a handful of minutes for them both to get there. Décor had begun to show, thick steam from small vendors selling Christmas styled hot-cakes, coffee and even one vendor tried selling Christmas hot dogs.

Steve figured he'd get something for Tony on the way back.

The lake within Central Park was being prepped and tested for future ice skating events. Crowds of people testing it, standing as ice formed over the surface in thick globs around the outer rim. It seemed unsafe for now; so signs were placed to warn people thinking about skating itself.

"Do you know what you want for Christmas, Tony?" Steve asked, a smile still apparent on his face. "Have you thought about it?"

Tony stared blankly at the frozen over lake, breath appearing in short bursts before him. He didn't say anything.

Steve's eyes softened with a sense of saddened despair. He wanted Tony to answer him more, open up that little bit each day, then he'd start cracking jokes and Tony would be back before he knew it. But he was silent and Steve feared he was regressing. He instead glanced down to the snow clustered at their feet. Steve scooped some up, pulled back his arm and threw it.

With a loud splat, it hit quite far into the lake, half cracking on the thin sheet of ice that covered the middle. Steve repeated this motion another time before turning to the genius, who simply watched him.

"Want to try?" Steve asked, scooping up some snow and molding it in his hands. "Come on. Give it a go." He took Tony's wrist, placing the snowball in his hands and waited. Tony looked down to it, before lifting his eyes to Steve as if he didn't have any idea what this meant, why he should or even what it was.

"Just throw it. Throw it as hard as you can."

Tony's brows knitted upwards, as if confused as to why. He lifted his hand and propelled it into the air. It didn't go far, landing on a thicker patch of ice with a satisfying sound. Steve bent down, picked another handful of snow up; shaped it and handed it to Tony.

"Again."

Tony did, this time it went further. Steve repeated this, each time Tony's throw getting stronger, faster before he turned Tony by his shoulders and looked at him so intently, even Tony's eyes searched his out of sheer surprise.

"Do you know why I made you throw those snowballs, Tony?" Tony didn't answer, just looked at him, body tense from Steve's sudden turning. "It's because sometimes… You need a release." He moved his hand into the dampening locks of brunette and simply stroked down to is face as if Tony was the most fragile thing in the world.

"Whatever this is, Tony. Whatever is keeping you from me; I need you to let go, okay?"

Steve found himself welling up inside. This whole thing was taking it's toll. The smiles, the one-sided conversations and the distinct lack of Tony in his life, when he was neither here nor there, like the cat. That damned cat.

"Tony, keep throwing those snowballs. Whatever it is that's stopping you talking to me. Just throw them, get angry, throw harder just… Just come back, okay?"

Steve was met with nothing but a stare. Tony just looked at him, lips slightly parting and his whole body tense. Steve quite suddenly let go, not wanting to hurt him, scare him with his own desperation.

That was stupid, Steve. Stupid.

He moved his palm to his forehead and tried to calm himself. He felt himself upset for the first time, his eyes threatening to well up and he felt like crying. He shouldn't. Tony was getting better, slowly but surely. But Steve was scared.

Scared Tony would never come back fully. Never be the same. Never talk, never tease, never smile again.

He took in slow breaths, letting the cold air fill his lungs and release.

_Splat._

Steve lifted his head quite suddenly at the sound, noting Tony bending down, scooping up snow and shaping it and throwing it. He threw it far, before repeating his motions over and over. Tony got to about the 6th snowball when Steve outstretched his hand, stopping Tony from throwing the 7th.

Then he saw it.

Tony's eyes were red. His eyes watering to an extent those thick tears were falling down his cheeks. Steve felt his heart drop. Did he do this? Did he scare Tony?

"Tony…" The billionaire was pushed into his chest. Steve embraced him tightly, and he felt Tony's shoulders jerk. Tony was quiet, he didn't let out any sounds. He just cried.

Steve wondered if this was something that Tony did. Cry quietly on his own, to drink alone in a saddened silence. How often had Tony done this? How often had he done this with his kidnappers? Fingers curled against Steve's jacket and Tony remained hidden between their thick layers of clothing, holding onto him and just crying. Letting go.

He just hoped to God it was a break through.

Hoped to God he was one more step closer to getting him back.


	9. IX: Hermes

It took a long time for Bruce to calm down. When Steve brought Tony back, he'd regressed. He'd settled himself down and kept his lips firmly shut and stared into space with a glassy look covering his eyes. Steve expressed he had pulled the trigger and helped Tony.

Bruce thought otherwise.

Bruce explained that it wasn't the trigger. What he had done wasn't helping anything. He'd pulled Tony into a state of 12 steps backwards. Luckily, Clint was there, dragging Bruce away in fear he got too angry and made a mess.

So Steve had made Tony regress. He looked at the broken billionaire who merely just sat with a sense of corruption stinging the air around him.

They were running out of options. What was Steve supposed to do? He was trying to get answers, but the way Bruce had described it, it was like he was ripping Tony apart piece by piece.

He didn't understand it anymore.

He just looked at the genius, looked at him, sitting there, broken. Staring into space. He called his name, but Tony didn't answer.

Was he even there anymore?

 

* * *

 

"Okay, Green. I need to know what exactly happened. Fury's going to have me on a silver platter if Tony's…" He couldn't finish the words. Instead he just went quiet. Bruce was a smart guy, and he knew what he was going to say.

"Steve didn't activate the trigger, whatever it is." Bruce confirmed it, rubbing at his temples with his glasses twiddling in his fingers. He took a small series of deep breaths attempting to just calm down. He needed to be in the right state of mind to help Tony. "Tony's in a box right now, and he's made of glass. It's like the ultimate defense but also the most fragile."

Clint had made him some water, placing it at Bruce's side which he took just to keep his fingers busy. He took a small sip, not at all thirsty but it still helped. The Archer remained with his arms folded and leaning against the door frame. Relaxed for someone sitting so close to an active canon.

"So?" Clint quizzed further, perking a brow. "I thought it was good for Tony to show a little emotion."

"No," Banner answered quickly. "We're supposed to approach with care. Steve just…" His hand tightened around the glass, but quickly loosened. He needed to just breathe. "It was like smashing the box around Tony, so Tony has put up a new wall. Or…"

"Or?"

"Or he's too broke to bring back."

There was a long silence between the two. As much as Clint had gotten to know Tony, a small part of his was worried about Fury's rage when he found out their top inventor was brain dead, or close to it.

"On the other hand," Bruce piped up, swallowing more water to put out the fire that was growing inside him. "I have no idea what this trigger is. Tony left bread crumbs for us with the Schrodinger's cat theory. He saw a cat, it triggered that. It just… I have nothing to go on anymore. In a way, maybe forcing open the box is our only shot."

Clint slapped his hand across his face, features twisting in confusion. He hated smart and complex things regarding the mind sometimes. He admired them from afar, but he really wasn't in the mood to deal with this.

"Okay, before we go about potentially breaking Tony into pieces, let's look at what we got. This cat thing and Tony." He pulled out two fingers each time he spoke. Sadly after months of investigations that was really all they had.

Then Bruce stopped. As if something had clicked.

Clint just looked at him, as if expecting the scientist to explain. But instead Bruce stood up so fast, he knocked the water over and sprinted out of the room. Clint literally had to press his back up against the wall to allow him to pass, opened his mouth to say something and shut it with a low growl.

"I hate it when no one explains things to me!"

And with that, he gave chase. Snaking his way to Bruce who searched the kitchen, the front room, the bedroom and finally finding Tony sitting quietly by Steve's side in Steve's desk area, watching him type up reports to Fury at a pitiful speed.

"What is it?" Steve asked almost dumbfounded at the sight of the panting Banner and Clint following swiftly behind him. (Although very much less tired.) "…Is something wrong?"

"I know what the trigger is," Bruce said quickly. He stepped into Steve's room, glancing around and licking his lips. He was looking for something, looking for the trigger. Steve's eyes followed him, almost confused as Bruce was. "…The trigger is in my office?"

"Well, it could be," Bruce said almost cryptically. Clint rolled his eyes again. Steve glanced between the two, as if trying to get an answer from either of them. But he didn't.

"Don't look at me," Clint said rather dead-pan. "I just shoot things."

Bruce finally grabbed a small side mirror frowning at it, and then nodding his head as if answering an internal question to himself. He scooted over to Tony, who all this time had remained still and quiet and staring blankly at Steve's reports, as he had done before Bruce had charged in.

"All we had was the cat theory and Tony. So since we've already figured out the cat theory, that leaves just Tony." Bruce squeezed himself in front of the billionaire, lifting the mirror towards him. "Tony, look into the mirror."

Clint looked at the actions as if this whole thing was a joke. He almost felt like laughing at it. "Whoa, what? Tony is his own trigger? In what world does that even make sense?"

"Because…" Steve piped up, his brows crossing in confusion. "Tony needed something that all of would have when he locked himself up. We'd have Tony."

"Bingo," Bruce whispered. He moved his hand forward, tilting Tony's chin to make him look into the mirror.

Tony remained still for a good few minutes, his eyes settling upon himself and nothing happened. Minutes turned into five, ten. Clint was beginning to think this was another dead end, Steve was about to give up too, but Bruce looked determined. Looking at Tony and willing it.

But nothing happened.

"Damn it," Bruce whispered. "I was so sure."

Bruce went to drop the mirror, when Steve grabbed a hold of his arm holding it up.

"Wait," Steve said softly. "Tony. Look at you. Look at what you've become. It's time to let go, like I told you." Bruce looked to Steve, as if about to question it – but they were out of options. "Like the snow balls. But this time you have to see it instead of throwing it."

Tony did nothing, again. He just sat there and Clint threw his arms up in annoyance and desperation. This was a dead end. Tony was as good as dead now, wasn't he?

Then Tony's chin moved. Tugging away from Bruce to look away. Look away from his reflection. Steve reinforced the grip, making Tony look. Tony began to get more frantic, he lifted his hands and pulled at Bruce and Steve, trying to get free.

It began to get desperate. He was fighting them both, but Tony was still so thin from only eating the bare minimum that he was no match for the super soldier and Bruce combined.

Tony started to cry, then he started to scream. His legs kicked and Clint had to quickly move behind him and secure the chair as they made him look at himself.

Tony shut his eyes.

And the screams didn't stop.


	10. X: The Unnamed Chapter

Tony was surrounded by nothing but white.

He was stood alone. He opened his eyes slowly; the brightness of the white that surrounded him didn't seem to be a bother. His eyes were blank, his lips parting as he felt at peace. It was quiet. Everything was just as it should be.

In place.

A ticking noise could suddenly be heard. It was quiet at first and growing louder. Tony, who had finally blinked himself conscious looked around, trying to locate the sound that disturbed his peace.

"Tony," he found himself saying. "Tony."

He was saying it himself. He felt his lips move that caused his fingertips to hover over to them as they moved and murmured his name. They brushed across hair, confusion twisting across his face.

"Yeah, Clint did a good job of that one, didn't he?" There was a moment where Tony realized that he wasn't actually speaking anymore. He lifted his head, noting a figure who stood in front of him. His mirror image. He wore a black suit, red shirt and black tie. He was neat, but looked very tired. "Do you know where you are?"

Tony lowered his head from his doppelganger. He was wearing black suit too – only his shirt was white. That was their only difference. He lifted his head, confusion still across his face.

"Well. We're in us," he said with a sense of expression, lifting his hands and shrugging. "This is what I did to save us from. Well. _You._ "

Tony tilted his head, and really looked around. He knew he was Tony. He just didn't understand the ticking noise. He knew nothing but blank peace.

"You probably don't remember. But that's good. It means I did good." The other Tony explained. He walked, his heels clattering against the floor. Tony looked down at the others feet, wondering how it could make sound. Everything was white. There shouldn't be any sound, or anyone logical reasoning here.

Everything was just wrong.

"Look, I need you to accept me again." The other spoke quietly, he circled Tony, clasping his hands together and then smiling at him. it was warm, but he just looked ill and tired. "I'm sorry for what I did to you, but I need you to accept me back."

Tony stared at him, brows knitting together with a small sense of confusion and whitewash annoyance. He shouldn't feel anything. He should just be at peace, floating there in white. This sound, this person, this gravity with his feet on a floor and making a sound – the fact there was a floor in this white expanse was wrong.

"I am you." He moved forwards, grabbing Tony by his shoulders. He felt a sense of urgency, he wanted to fight back, but he didn't He just looked at the other blankly, quietly. "I am everything that makes us. You look after me. You're my vessel. You're my outside and I am your inside."

Tony didn't get it. It wasn't that he didn't believe in this other Tony. It was just wrong. A sense of duty told him to back away, fight until this other left. But he didn't, he was still, frozen – but not frightened. He wasn't so sure about what he was feeling right now.

"What I did was unforgivable. What I did to us." He explained, he looked sad. Tony wanted to hug him for some reason. Again, not sure why. "This is all my fault. I murdered us. I killed us." He smiled sadly, and Tony felt sad with him. It also made him smile. It was all very, very confusing. "I'll explain everything from the beginning, okay?" The other moved forwards, pressing his forehead against Tony's. "Close your eyes. I'll show you what I've done."

 

* * *

 

It was just like any op. Tony's thrusters on his boot sent the usual scan of the city to Fury. There was a brief sound from SHIELD of some criminals amassing a plan to overthrow SHIELD and then the Avengers – the usual. Tony knew it wouldn't happen, of course it wouldn't. These criminals could hardly stick to their own plans, let alone someone else's; whoever it was pulling the strings.

"Nah, nothing over here, Hill. My scans show nothing other than the masses going to work. Forwarding the images now." He gave a smile behind his mask. Maria Hill was a pain to work with and he knew it, but sometimes he had to resist the urge to think anything bad of her commanding tone.

He kind of liked that in a woman.

"Alright, Stark," her voice came and Tony's face lit up like it was Christmas. "Fly over to Long Island and scan there. We have agents doing a cover op on the ground. Secure Long Island and you can go home."

"Gotcha. You know," Tony began with a grin, altering his course. JARVIS was already on it. The waypoint on his dashboard located the co ordinates sent from Hill. "We should grab dinner sometime."

 

* * *

 

Tony opened his eyes. The other was still there, looking at him, his eyes wide and hands grasping his raven locks. "Do you remember?" He whispered to the other. He forced a smile, Tony found himself copying it.

"It was the usual call ins. But do you remember what happened when we got to Long Island?"

Tony remained blank, he tried to remember. He really did, but nothing came. It was a blank. He looked over at the other, who was still smiling, as if watching a child ride a bike for the first time and falling from it.

"It's okay." He whispered softly. "Close your eyes. I'll remind you."

 

* * *

 

There was a blip on the radar. Tony went down to investigate as a recon op for the SHIELD scouts to follow up on later. It was in your creepy, run of the mill empty building. Shame really, Tony never remembered this. He was born here after all.

He stepped in, crisp wooden strips breaking beneath his armored feet. It was probably burnt down some time ago. Cracks in the broken windows showed some fading light spill in.

"Stark? How's it looking?"

"Creepy," he responded with a perked brow. "Usual setting for a bad guy get-together." He stepped over. A crack, then a snap and he fell.

He didn't have a chance to consider thrusters. The floor gave away and he found himself very much dropping. But he fell for a while, not one floor, not two, but what into a 20ft drop.

After a wild flailing, he fell and he—

 

* * *

 

Tony opened his eyes, he noted the other looking angry, shaking his head. "No," he said quietly. "No, that's not what happened."

Tony stepped away, his heart was pounding as if he felt the fall himself. He looked at the other, completely unsure of what he meant. That's what the other was showing him, wasn't it?

"Can't you remember?" The other moved his hands through his own hair, brushing it almost annoyed. "I did this to us. We did enter a house at Long Island. But we didn't fall. How can you fall 20 feet?"

Tony remained still, trying to remember but he was just blank. The only memories that filled him was the ones of the other filling him. He felt annoyed when he did.

"Maybe showing you isn't enough…" He whispered. The other stepped back, he outstretched his arm to cover Tony's eyes. His usual whiteness was replaced with a heavy black.

It was brief. The other's hand moved.

What Tony saw then, made him open his mouth. He felt like screaming.

In fact, he did.

He back away, looking at the other who now adorned a pig mask, looking right at him. He didn't move, he didn't say anything, even as Tony felt his legs quicken in desperation.

He tried to look away, but some force was making him watch, making him look at the pig that stared back at him.

He kicked his legs to move, but he was secured.

"I did this. What you saw was me." He spoke in a muffled and horribly familiar tone. "We went to Long island and we were ambushed. But we took care of it." The pig stepped forwards, Tony tried to move but he couldn't. "We went off the radar. Do you remember why?"

Tony was screaming, but he could hear the words of the pig like they were being whispered into his ear.

"You wouldn't let me out. You bottled me up. Remember what happened to us. What I did to you."

The pig was close to his face now. Tony's eyes were wide with fear. He was sweating, his hair was damp and stuck to his face. He wanted to talk, but all he could do was scream, kick and fight against these hands holding him down.

"Remember. Remember because it's time to let go."


	11. XI: Epiphany

The screaming didn't stop for just under an hour. But for Steve, it felt like an eternity. He thought about letting Tony go, making him stop looking into the mirror and to just breathe.

Bruce though was determined. Tony needed to ride out his trigger, let it all come back to him and then deal with the 'worms' after. Bruce wouldn't let Clint or Steve let him go until he stopped.

Soon the screams subsided, and Tony cried, and cried. It was a horrible sight for Steve to see. Tony Stark, cocky, insufferable Tony Stark was broken into pieces in front of him.

He fell asleep after. Steve didn't let go of him, instead he held the genius in his arms and just didn't let go.

He promised he wouldn't.

 

* * *

 

Natasha had worked day in, day out on this damned case. She hardly had time to go see the genius, even as he made progress – causing her frustration to grow on a series of unexplainable events.

The thing that aggravated her the most was there was always a clue. Always something to help uncover the truth, whether it was the last known co-ordinates of where Tony was (But when he went missing in the first hour, the place was checked and he wasn't there.) to where he could have been for 4 weeks.

There was 4 weeks of Tony Stark's life unaccounted for, and these were the most important weeks of his life.

Natasha sipped at her coffee, a bad habit she'd picked up when trailing through every single inch of paperwork of what they had based around Tony's case. She read everything, their last logs with Hill. His last words given to her.

_"Stark? How's it looking?"_

_"Creepy, usual setting for a bad-guy get together."_

_A beat._

_"Stark? You're slipping off my radar. What's going on? Are you out of range?"_

_"Fzzzt—I need to—fzzzt—Stop! Get—Fzzt—I'm blee—Fzzt—I need to go."_

Thing was, when they investigated for the signal blind spot in that broken and burnt down house, there was nothing. Tony was in the Iron Man suit and Natasha knew it took more than a hit to make him bleed behind it.

They found nothing. The scene only held a few footprints that belonged to Tony. There was no one else there.

Again, she found herself sitting at her desk, a headache ebbing in her temples as she tried to catch an assailant that just right out didn't exist.

Then.

It clicked together.

Natasha felt the cogs of her mind turn in the right direction for the first time since this whole thing began. Her face, a usual stony exterior mingled with nothing but flawless emotion had her brows knit together, her hands curl at the paper and quite frankly, she felt like she was going to cry.

Her phone bleeped by her side, causing her to jump. (Not many things made Natasha jumped, but the fact she was tired, stressed and now upset made her more than jumpy.)

Clint.

She answered it, pressing it to her ear. Her voice didn't shake as she looked down to her paperwork. "Romanoff."

"We found the trigger," Clint whispered exasperated. "Tony should be able to tell us things pretty soon. Bruce said we have to see how he is when he wakes up, but he's there, Nat."

Natasha should have felt relieved. A few minutes before hand, she would have been. Finally, an answer. But she was quiet, she said nothing. She could hear Clint looking towards the phone in a sense of questioning towards her. He knew she wasn't one for jumping-from-walls excitement, but he knew she cared.

"Nat, what's wrong? This is good isn't it?"

"I hope I'm wrong," She whispered, eyes tracing across her paperwork. "But I think we should have never, ever let Tony come out of that shell he locked himself in."

She could hear Clint's breath stop, she knew he was angry. She could always tell.

"What the hell are you saying!? You want Tony back, don't you? We're getting there!"

"Clint-"

"It's taken months for us to just crack his code, crack this idiotic, genius plan that I'm sure will be admired in psychology books for years to come – But we're getting him back!"

"Clint." She said more sternly this time. "I think Tony didn't want to come back."

Another silence. She took that as an urge to simply continue.

"I've been looking into this case since day one. I've been relentlessly looking for the bastard that did this. Make him pay. I don't like Stark, but he's one of our own. He's important in his own way." She paused; maybe somewhere she did like him. But she was too busy shaking her head at the smart idiot to notice.

"There was no assailant."

"…What?"

"The only person there was Tony."

"Wait. You're telling me that Tony wasn't tortured? They broke his mind, Nat. Why the hell would Tony do that to himself? That's the only logical explanation in your theory, right?"

"I… I don't know. There was physical injuries… But they can all be self inflicted."

"Nat, what you're saying is crazy. Tony went missing by his own accord, broke down somewhere, hit himself and then came back after 4 weeks? Even I think that's a bit far-fetched."

"I know. But what if he did? What if something happened, he saw something in Long Island that made him do this?"

"… I don't believe this, Nat. I think you need to go get some sleep. Look at it from a new perspective."

"I need you to come to Long Island with me tomorrow. We'll take Tony."

"Whoa, wait. He's just been screaming for over an hour. I'm not taking him there so soon after we pulled the trigger."

"I think this is our one shot, Clint. To get answers."

 

* * *

 

Steve occupied himself with a number of things. When they got Tony to bed, Steve didn't sleep all through the night. He thought about working out, but he didn't get further than the elevator. He thought about watching TV, but couldn't really focus. He wanted Tony awake, wanted him to talk.

But Bruce insisted on him sleeping. Bruce retired, Clint went to report. And that left Steve, alone, his legs moving quickly as he thumbed the remote trying to concentrate on everything but Tony.

He watched Tony look at himself, watch him scream and fight against them. He was strong, but not as strong as he used to be. Tony was desperate and Steve had no choice but to watch him activate his own trigger. Bruce wanted to move him too somewhere where he could be monitored; Steve refused, offering to keep an eye on him himself. He knew what Tony was like.

But this was hard. Steve was tired but there was no way he'd sleep. He needed answers. He needed something.

A noise was heard; Steve jolted up – stood up out of being on edge. His eyes settled through the dimly lit room, to Tony. Who stood, eyes bloodshot, clothes messed and hair curled from being damp earlier.

"… Tony?" Steve whispered. Tony looked at him, but he didn't speak.

Steve's stomach dropped.

That pain Tony was put through seemed like it didn't work. It could have caused him to regress, or to be broken for the rest of his life – Steve actually wanted to scream, cry or something. These months had been for naught.

"Steve," Tony said hoarsely. "I'm so sorry."


	12. XII: Suicide

Every great question lead to Steve looking at Tony and staring absolutely dumbfounded. He wanted to jump, scream if Tony was alright because he was _really_ here now and with him.

But then again, he wasn't.

Tony was back, he could see that, but he was broken. The pieces of him where behind those red eyes and staring at him and screaming for Steve to help. Help pick the pieces of fragile, Tony Stark and put him back together again.

It took all his courage to stop himself laughing into Tony's face at the apology. But something stopped him. Tony wasn't apologizing because of his state; it was something else. Steve could almost sense it.

 

* * *

 

"What for?" Steve mumbled, trying to piece together this difficult and elaborate puzzle Tony had created. Here Tony was, back to him and speaking; sure he was looking like hell but he was _here_. Not at an _in-between_ , not in a _box_. Not any _theory_.

"Steve I…" Tony sounded quiet, run down and exhausted. He moved his palm to his forehead and rubbed across it slowly. "I'm so weak, you know?"

He could hear the break in Tony's voice, and protective Steve leaped over without a moments hesitation and held onto Tony as he had done for the while he'd been there by his side; Fed him, watched him. Everything in his life was just Tony and it was hard to let go.

"No don't," he shoved away, his arms weak but Steve let him go. He wanted to squeeze him, let him know it was alright. But he didn't want to do anything. Tony was glass in his eyes. "Steve, I don't deserve this. I… I don't know the details. These past few weeks, months, whatever… It's like trying to remember a dream."

Steve understood. He'd always thought Tony was aware somewhere in his mind, but it's like trying to remember a memory from another perspective. Hard but possible, but not always entirely true.

"It's okay, you haven't missed much. We're just trying to find out who is responsible for this. Who did this to you." Steve pushed a small smile, his heart beating fast for some reason. Like he'd ran a marathon and racing the last few miles. "You can tell us now you're back, so—"

He cut his words.

Tony was looking at him, eyes watering and Steve just… He'd never seen Tony cry before. He'd seen him cry in his other state of mind but Tony was _here_ now. Crying. _Really_ crying.

"Tony?"

"I wanted…" Tony shook his head. His hands moved to his face and his whole body just crumbled. He fell to his knees and Steve just looked at him in dumbfounded horror.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Tony was supposed to be better, happy and snarky and everything that was Tony Stark. But now… He was on his knees. Then Steve's breath was caught somewhere in his throat as Tony muttered his next words.

"Kill me."

He'd whispered it so it was only just heard to Steve. He thought he could have mis-heard, but he was fooling himself. He knew exactly what the other had said.

"Tony," he said more sternly, dropping his knees to the billionaire. "Tony, you don't… You don't want to die. You're here. With me."

"You don't know… What I've done. What I've been through." When Steve touched the billionaire's shoulder, he retreated, but Steve pressed his palms there, gripping Tony to this reality in fear he was moving away from it again.

"Just tell me who did this," Steve said with a sense of strength behind his words. He was fighting back his own tears. He wanted to cry with Tony with relief and anger over who did this. "I'll get them, Tony. They won't get away with this."

"I did," Tony whispered, eyes lifting as his hands shook away from his face. "I did this."

"You did this to save yourself. And you have, you won. We're here to help you fix the rest." He forced the smile, trying to sound stronger than he felt.

"No!" Tony shouted it and Steve found himself visibly flinching. "I did this! All of it! All of it was me! The other! The person who tortured me with myself! My memories my—"

Steve couldn't understand the next part. Not that he really understood the first. He was crying. Tony was sobbing.

"I… Don't get it, Tony…" Steve felt stupid. Throughout this whole case, Steve had just been there, questioning, wondering. He moved over to the billionaire and pulled him close. Pressing their bodies together as he felt Tony's wet cheeks against his neck.

But it was okay.

Because Steve didn't want Tony to feel anymore pain.

"Steve I… Long Island…" He swallowed, trying to focus his own intentional explanation as to why he wanted to die, why he wanted to erase himself from this world. Why his mind shouldn't be there anymore.

An indirect form of suicide.

"The world hated me, so I loved myself. I did it very well." Tony's voice was quiet, hurt but clear. "I did a lot of bad things. Bad things to do good things."

Steve just listened, although this made no sense why Tony was telling him this now. He wished Bruce was here, to say the right things or do the right thing. Something that will get Tony to give him a name about the person who did this. Steve really wanted that name.

"I've had a bad life, but not the worst. But… I'm guilty. I need to die."

Steve's grip tightened.

"I lost you once, Tony." He spoke sternly. "I will _not_ do it again."

"Steve," Tony pulled back, looking at the super soldier with a shuddered sigh. "Steve, I did this to myself. I tortured myself because I deserved it."

Steve's brows knitted in confusion. There was no way Tony would have done this. At least, not without a proper reason behind it.

"It's hard to explain…" He whispered, shutting his eyes. "…I need to show you."

With that, Tony lifted his head and leaned in close. Steve's breath stopped as the other got far too close. There was a difference between embraces and special awareness during these things. But Tony rested his forehead against Steve. Shutting his eyes.

"Tony…"

"You stayed with me that night. The one I asked you to stay with me; the one I wanted you there with me. I'll never forget that love you gave me when all I knew was the hate."

This was very much unlike Tony. But all of this was, all of this had been. He found his mouth dry and he felt uncomfortable. He wasn't sure what to make of their closeness. But they'd been closer when Tony was 'away'. But this was different. Steve couldn't quite explain it. It just felt different.

"I need you to see what I see. I need to remember."


	13. XIII: Unlucky

Of course SHIELD dragged Tony in. It seemed Natasha had made up some sort of theory that would make sense. Tony was painfully quiet. He said hello, probably for Steve's benefit. He could probably see when Steve was worried they'd took four steps back with him.

Tony dressed like he always did, suit and tie. He chose a red shirt today. Specifically asked for it. Who was Steve to complain? Tony sat down, a steaming cup of instant coffee in his hands that Steve knew Tony hated. But he'd asked for that too before disappearing within the room with Natasha.

Tony drank it nonetheless.

 

* * *

 

 

"Okay, Tony." Natasha slunk into the chair opposite. They were alone in the room. No CCTV, no window-hiding agents or friends. They were very much alone, together under Natasha's request. "I need answers."

"I know," Tony replied. He looked up to her, although he tried his best to place on a confident smirk, he knew Natasha didn't buy it. Of course she didn't. "I want to give them to you."

"So do it," She leaned back into her seat, folding her arms and settling in, expecting Tony to just open it up. She didn't anticipate him to just outright say it. Steve had told her about the night before – it only strengthened her theory. She needed confirmation.

"Long Island," he began with a distant look in his eyes, thumbing the burning coffee in his hands. "I was born there. You know?"

"I do, I know almost everything about you." Natasha leaned forwards, hand stretching over and taking his. It was genuine and Tony knew it. Real concern. "I did work with you for a while. I had to know everything."

"It was the perfect set-up," He let his eyes fall to their hands, fingers curling against hers. He needed this. "The guy was just smart. He knew how to break me."

Natasha hid the slight parting of her lips. She was getting somewhere but she had to tease it out. Tony's mind was fragile and brilliant. The two things that could make him pull back into himself at any given moment. She just needed a name before that happened.

"That building was burnt, broken. I was looking for the group and I fell—" He stopped, his brows furrowing on his face. "No… I didn't fall." He tried to think for a moment, moving his hand to his forehead. "I'm not sure… What happened exactly. I felt like I was falling."

Natasha just looked at him, eyes soft and searching. She remained quiet, letting him talk. This wasn't an interrogation.

"When I woke up… Everything hurt. My armor was gone. I don't know how they got me out of it."

Flashes of Tony, the pig, Tony's face behind it. Pepper. The knife. Banging his head against the wall and the chains.

His hand tightened around Natasha's, but it wasn't painful, it just felt desperate.

"I… I was left alone. But I was hallucinating. I don't know what was real and what's not." He felt like an idiot. A child who had lost their way. He was Tony Stark, he should be stronger than this. "My hometown, myself… They used it all against me."

"Tony," Natasha whispered trying to comfort the other. "Are you telling me that there was someone who did this? That you didn't go missing of your own accord? Tell me I'm wrong, Tony."

"Yes and no," Tony lifted his head up, looking at her soft eyes to his steeled ones. He was ready. "I was ambushed. Threatened. But not through violence. My helmet… it was removed, or broken. Then I blacked out."

The billionaire stood up rather quickly, but his hand didn't leave Natasha's. She merely lifted her head sharply, eyes looking to him in her own form of desperation. It still didn't make sense, but at least she knew Tony didn't do this to himself alone. He had help.

"I need to go back," And Natasha cracked a smile.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

 

* * *

 

Steve and Clint sat in an office Steve hadn't ever seen before. Clint said it was Natasha's 'make-shift-space', in which was cluttered with paperwork, plain oak furnishings and a computer that looked like it had never been turned on.

All that Steve saw was papers. Some had Tony's name on it and it was hard for him to look into it. In the end, he gave in and craned his neck to the side.

The papers all displayed people involved with the case. Maria Hill had been questioned; in a neat red circle at the bottom read 'Dead end'. Another page had Tony's name on it, highlighting parts in his profile like 'Long Island', 'Borderline psychopathic' was scribbled on intently. Steve grimaced at that, Tony did things in his own way, but he did it for the right reasons, even if his methods are a little harsh or unexplainable, he'd hardly think he was psychopathic.

Another caused Steve to reach over and grab it.

'Steve Rogers.'

"Clint," Steve began, reading the neat red pen against things in his profile. "Why was I being investigated? I didn't have anything to do with it until after."

Clint, who sat next to him with his legs completely stretched out and arms folded merely glanced over, not phased and unworried.

"Don't let it get to you, we all were." He smiled slightly, tapping his fingers against the sheet of papers, moving them. Sure enough, Bruce's file was there, Clint's, Thor's (but that had considerably less red writing on it, since 'Asgard' was circled and 'No motive' was written under the other.)

"Why?"

"Because it's usually the closest people who do this."

"So… Where's Natasha's file?"

"Sorry?"

"If we were all investigated, where's hers?"

Silence.

A beat.

Steve felt on edge, like Clint was going to outright attack him.

Then Natasha walked in, with Tony close behind. They held hands when they entered, Tony looking tired but better.

"Long Island," Natasha replied dryly. "We need to go."

"I need to remember everything," Tony whispered, moving is palm to is forehead. "I need to remember it to help you."

"Wait," Clint shuffled forwards, clasping his hands together. "Last night you told Steve that you did it. So, are you crazy or what? Because I just want to finish this soon."

"Clint," Natasha's eyes narrowed to the other, who held his hands up and leaned back. "We need to take Tony back there. I suggest me and Tony go alone and—"

"No way," Steve butted in. "I've looked after Tony until this point. I'm not leaving now."

Natasha looked at the super-soldier for a moment before shrugging slowly. "Sure, but a small team will do. We don't want to crowd Tony whilst he remembers."

Clint slapped his palms on his legs dropping his head back over his seat and sighing slowly. "To Long Island then."

Steve's eyes moved from the archer, to the billionaire and then to the spy. He wasn't sure what to make of all this now, those moments a few seconds ago. Something was very wrong here.

Very wrong.


	14. XIV: Revelation 1 out of 2

Long Island.

The house was burnt out like the reports suggested. Tony stepped out of the car, his eyes moving over to the house in question. Natasha and Clint kept their distance from him. Steve remained by his side, followed by Tony's footsteps who led him in through well informed guidance. He moved towards the inner part of the house, charred edges forming around broken furniture.

Tony's eyes settled on a hole in the ground. He moved over, Steve grasping at the back of his jacket to make sure he didn't fall. But Tony just stared into the black.

Slowly, he began to remember.

Remember everything.

 

* * *

 

It was just like any op. Tony's thrusters on his boot sent the usual scan of the city to Fury. There was a brief sound from SHIELD of some criminals amassing a plan to overthrow SHIELD and then the Avengers – the usual. Tony knew it wouldn't happen, of course it wouldn't. These criminals could hardly stick to their own plans, let alone someone else's; whoever it was pulling the strings.

"Nah, nothing over here, Hill. My scans show nothing other than the masses going to work. Forwarding the images now." He gave a smile behind his mask. Maria Hill was a pain to work with and he knew it, but sometimes he had to resist the urge to think anything bad of her commanding tone.

He kind of liked that in a woman.

"Alright, Stark," her voice came and Tony's face lit up like it was Christmas. "Fly over to Long Island and scan there. We have agents doing a cover op on the ground. Secure Long Island and you can go home."

"Gotcha. You know," Tony began with a grin, altering his course. JARVIS was already on it. The waypoint on his dashboard located the co ordinates sent from Hill. "We should grab dinner sometime."

The flight over was uneventful to say the least. Just rainy grey clouds and typical splatters of freezing rain from being so high up.

There was a blip on the radar. Tony went down to investigate as a recon op for the SHIELD scouts to follow up on later. It was in your creepy, run of the mill empty building. Shame really, Tony never remembered this. He was born here after all.

He stepped in, crisp wooden strips breaking beneath his armored feet. It was probably burnt down some time ago. Cracks in the broken windows showed some fading light spilling in.

"Stark? How's it looking?"

"Creepy," he responded with a perked brow. "Usual setting for a bad guy get-together." He stepped over. A crack, then a snap and something blew off in his face. He fell back, forced back by something trying to rip his head off. If Tony had ever wondered what a punch from Muhammad Ali felt like, he kind of had a good idea.

He found his body spinning, shattering through several layers of wood before he hit what felt like concrete and rubble. He paused for that moment, just trying to get over the presumed concussion that filled his groggy mind.

What a damned day.

Tony spluttered, and coughed. Dust specs clouded his visor and even switching to thermals didn't help. Whoever blew the room apart lay a trap for him. He was thankful for the suit, otherwise scratchy dust would already be on his lungs. He blinked, as if it would help the suits scanners as he stood.

One moment he was talking to Hill, the next thing he knew something exploded. He stood up, suit diagnostics predicting a 20% damage to the helm. Typical, they always aim for the face.

"Alright…" Tony muttered. He lifted his head, communications were flitting in and out of focus. He pressed his lip into a thin line; everything was dark. It was like whatever had blown up had sent him hurtling into some sort of lost edge of time. The only thing he could see was thick blobs of dust and some wooden frames that blew to splinters in whatever explosion it was.

"Hill?" he whispered. "Hill? Can you hear me?" There was a burst of static, causing him to flinch. He tried to shut it off, but it was just so damn loud. He pulled off his helmet and chucked it to the floor. He was damn well almost deafened by it. "Jesus… Right." He looked up, his eyes scanning across the way. Thick dust clouds pushed through his panting lips, causing the billionaire to cough and his eyes to snap shut.

"I need to… Get the hell out of here."

He managed to pry his eyes open, or at least one of them as he glanced upwards. So he had fell. Well, had been blown back. Falling would mean he was clumsy. He wasn't that clumsy – at least not anymore.

"Tony."

He paused his breathing at his name. He whipped his head around into the darkness. How can this rickety old house have such a dark underground passage?

"Who's….Who's there?" He coughed. He needed his helmet back. He'd rather go deaf than not breathe. Moving over, he heavily stepped forwards and bent down to his helmet.

"Don't," Came the voice again. It was a woman's. Tony knew who's it was.

"I should have guessed," Tony choked, moving the helmet to his face. "Only you could have come up with something so sneaky and backstabbing."

Natasha stepped out from her hiding place. She held a small clear mask over her face. Her brows knitted upwards as she stepped closer, kneeling to Tony as she pressed her palms on either side of his helmet.

"You're dangerous," She whispered. She tugged off his helmet, in which his hand snapped up to keep the damned thing near his face. "Tony."

"I was wondering when you'd make the move," Tony whispered looking at her. His voice was scratchy; there was just so much dust and damp. Something else was in the air too. "SHIELD can't put me on a leash like everyone else."

"We never wanted you on a leash. We just wanted you to operate inside parameters." She kept her fingers on the edge of his helmet, but was no match for the suits strength. But she didn't budge. Neither did he.

"You're always hiding something," Tony kept his eyes on her. The trouble with her was he never knew if she actually was working alone here or if someone was in those damned shadows. She was good. "You just hate me snooping around."

"There are just some things that you can't know." She moved closer, her lips tracing across the suit's golden face. "But you can never leave well enough alone."

"So, what now? You're going to kill me?" Tony was smiling underneath the mask. He'd want nothing more than to go ahead and take those beautiful lips of hers. But he'd have to control himself. It wasn't worth not breathing after all.

"No," she spoke in a low and husked whisper, her eyes lifting from behind clear glasses. "No, I wouldn't let them hurt you. I know what you're like. I know who you are, Tony Stark. You're someone I consider as close to a friend as they can get."

"So, what now? This is a very elaborate way to slap my wrists don't you think?" He almost coughed. His helmet wasn't on properly yet, dust was getting in.

"Do you know what I've had to endure to get where I am today?" Her fingers remained under the clasp. She was counting on the damned dust getting in. Tony could easily rip hers from her mouth. He should do it, to breath. "I'm so sorry, Tony."

"I'm bleeding for you. Honestly. My heart's bleeding for you," Tony whispered to her. He couldn't do it. Natasha was someone he considered to be a friend too. He couldn't hurt her. He couldn't even when she tried. "Stop."

"We need to take you in," She said whilst pulling up his helmet. Tony's fingers wouldn't work. What the hell was in the air? What was making him feel so weak? He squinted when the helmet was taken off and Natasha's hand was on his face. He found himself leaning into her. He couldn't breathe. He didn't have the effort to gasp anymore.

"We're just going to take you in for a while. Make you come around. You'll see how good SHIELD really is, Tony. It's my home. My life. You can't destroy it over a few secrets, you know?" She held onto him, his eyes were snapping shut from the dust. "I didn't want to do this. Personally I don't think you'll cave. But you need to, Tony. We need you, we need you 100%. If you can't trust us… We have to make you."

Tony couldn't stop his eyes shutting. He tried to speak, tried to ask what the hell was happening to his body. What was in the dust, what Natasha meant by destroying her home. "I need to go," he croaked, trying to flicker his wrists to activate the jets, but he couldn't. He couldn't move.


	15. XV: Revelation 2 out of 2

**Present day / Long Island.  
**

Natasha watched as Tony stood at the edge of the hole. Long Island. She wanted Tony to remember. Wanted him to know. Wanted him back.

Tony stared into it, and Steve just stood at his side.

"What's down there?" Steve asked with a rather passive gesture. "Is this where you fell?"

"No," Tony spoke softly. "No, this is where I was ambushed." He turned his head slowly, Clint at Natasha's side as he tensed. "You're… Real good, aren't you?"

Steve's brows knitted together. This was confusing, but it began to add up. On the car journey over here, Tony was eerily quiet, Clint stuck at Natasha's side and all of them seemingly wished Steve were somewhere else.

"You know I didn't want this. You did this." She spoke with her own mask breaking. She looked guilty.

"….You did this?" Steve gestured to Tony, after all those months, Natasha visiting – she was in on it the whole time? "You did this to Tony!?"

"Steve-" Natasha began but Steve didn't want to hear it.

"He's been gone from us for months! God damn months, Natasha! There was a chance he might not come back! Why would you even do this to him!?" Steve was seething with rage. His eyes switched to Clint, who looked ready to break out and attack. "You too!? I thought you were our friends!"

"Steve." Tony's voice came. He tilted his head to the super soldier at his side, a lopsided smile falling across his face. For the first time in a long time… Tony was Tony. "This was kind of my fault."

 

* * *

 

When Tony awoke, his fingers twitched, tensed. His vision blurred beyond that of the norm, eyes shifting in and out of focus. The room was dark, like the typical mafia movies with some chump getting interrogated. Typical, really. Spies never did move on from the James Bond era.

"Mr. Stark," a voice whispered from the blurred out edges of his vision. "We took the liberty of removing your suit."

Tony kept quiet. His mouth was dry, as if someone had put a mountain of salt in it and shoved it down his throat. He coughed in response. That meant Stark blueprints were back on the Black Market. He was going to have the fire some people.

"Stark, do you understand the trouble you're in?" Tony's head turned, the dark coat and smell of leather filled his sight and sense of smell.

"Fury."

"You took our files. You had the God damn courage to plant a virus and take our damned plans."

Tony tilted his head back, shutting his eyes and grinning from ear to ear. This felt good, getting under his skin like that.

"Super soldier program? Did you learn nothing from Banner yet?" Tony's voice was scratchy. But he damn well made sure to lace the snarky tone and overconfidence.

"That was classified."

"I'm aware."

Fury moved to Tony's side, his gloved fingers stretching onto what Tony guessed was a plain metal chair arms. He opened his eyes, gazing into the bright white one of Fury's. Boy did he look mad.

"Now, because you took our information, we want it back." He spoke carefully, filled his words with venom. "We'll torture you, Stark. Or you can be good, hand it over and we can pretend this never happened."

"Do you think this is my first rodeo?" Tony smiled sweetly to him. "Go to hell."

"Well son," Fury leaned back, dusting his hands as if he touched something unclean. "After you."

 

* * *

 

**Present day / Long Island.  
**

"What the hell is going on!?" Steve couldn't keep his voice down. From dead ends to dead ends to this one in which he was the only person standing there didn't know what had happened, how things had unfolded.

"Remember when we first met? I wound up putting a virus in their system. Well, part of it stayed there." Tony kept his eyes on Natasha, whose eyes were wet. Steve would have cared about that if he wasn't so confused and angry. "I spied on the spies. Because I hate secrets. I watched their plans develop." He paused, eyes narrowing. "A new super soldier program."

Steve looked at Tony and then back to Natasha, who sighed shakily. Clint looked like he was ready to defend her to the death. - Completely on edge.

"Thor said it," Natasha spoke lowly. "We need to be ready for a new form of war."

"Naturally, I hated the idea." Tony shrugged almost, his head tilting to the side and back to Steve. "We give everyone shiny new toys and idiots who don't know how to control them wind up hurting more than they save. So I deleted their files."

"Only you didn't," Clint spoke for the first time. His eyes trained on Tony. "You kept them. We knew you made a copy."

"I did," Tony admitted. He lowered his eyes and then lifted them a second later. "I needed something in the future to bargain with if SHIELD never gave me help when I needed it."

"You didn't trust us," Natasha looked like she was ready to cry. Frankly, that scared Steve somewhat. There was still more to this story.

"Of course I didn't. You're spies." He paused and moved his hand to his head. "They had a damned elaborate plan. They set up an explosion, drugged me and Natasha handed me over. Like a good girl."

"Tony—" She began.

"But what she didn't realize was what they would do to me next." Tony moved forwards, stepping between the super soldier and both spies in the creaky, worn out building. "They took me in. And that's when things get a little blurry." He paused, looking at Natasha. "Go ahead. Tell Steve what they did."

She moved her hands to her face, wiped her eyes and then looked down to her hands. These were real. There was no fooling right now.

"They tortured you." She said with an almost pained tone. "They dunked you. Made you relive what it was like for you in Afghanistan. They offered you protection for your silence."

She paused, her eyes lifting back up to Tony. "But then you just… Stopped moving and talking one day. Started banging your head on the walls. Scratched at yourself."

"That's where it got more complex." Tony shifted his head to Steve. "I needed to tell someone. But I couldn't. So I created the Schrodinger's cat theory. I pushed myself so deep into my mind…" He paused, grin disappearing as he dropped his head. "I thought I could break out of it once they thought they'd mentally killed me. But… I wound up…. Being stuck with me. That wasn't so great."

Self-loathing was unbecoming of most people. But no body hated Tony Stark more than Tony Stark. He watched himself create his own unique torturer. The pig. Himself. He watched Pepper have sex, watching how he saw himself back when he was with her. How disgusting it made him feel that he was touching her.

How his issues with his father was brought up. He mentally destroyed himself too much that he broke down. He was tortured by his own life. After all, all he could do inside his own mind was think.

"I broke myself. I wasn't mentally strong enough to keep myself hidden." Tony paused, dropping his eyes to his feet for a brief second. "I knew that the only person who could wake me up was me. I left mental breadcrumbs before I went to sleep."

"Sleep?" Steve repeated. This made no damn sense. "What do you mean?"

"I put myself in the box to hide myself, Steve. But inside that box is every nightmare, every remorse and regret I had. In order to not relive them and kill myself, I went to sleep." He didn't expect Steve to understand. "My plan backfired, and so did theirs."

"I tried to stop it," Natasha said, stepping forwards. "They didn't tell me you'd be tortured like that, Tony."

"I know," Tony repeated with a whisper. "I also know that you wanted me to find this out, even after laying breadcrumbs of your own."

"What breadcrumbs?" Steve asked annoyed. He hated complex and overthought situations. Especially because he was the only damned person who didn't know what was going on.

"I was being monitored. In case you, Steve, asked about the investigation. Which you did. We had to play a part. It went as far as me having to arrest Pepper and falsify a call on the phone to Clint." She paused, breath catching in her throat. Long Island was the only place where SHIELD couldn't follow, not with Steve there.

"But… Wait. Tony was found wondering around Central Park." Steve rubbed his temples, trying to piece this all together. "You guys just—"

"We let him go. We thought we broke him, so we let him go," Clint explained for a moment. "SHIELD played a whole investigation, silenced the press and waited for Tony to be fixed to plan their next move."

"I'm a wildcard," Tony almost grinned proudly at that. "They couldn't control me. Hell, I couldn't even control me."

"So… SHIELD tried to buy your silence with protection on some idiotic reasoning of trust… You needed to tell someone so you backed yourself up mentally and that backfired causing you to go into a mental comatose… And then… SHIELD didn't want to admit their fault in this stupid plan, dropped you off in Central, then tried to bring you back all whilst hiding behind the mask of innocence?" Steve paused, moving his hand to his face. This world was too much - Too fast and complex. Why wasn't anything black and white?

"Pretty much. And your guilt," Tony proceeded looking at Natasha, digging his hands into is pockets. "Is what made you want me to come here; to remember." Natasha nodded; Clint relaxed, but only a little. "You wanted to bring me back as some sort of idiotic redemption."

"I have enough blood on my hands, Tony." Natasha looked at him, her eyes welling up again. "I'm sorry this happened, for what it's worth."

"Now here comes the aftermath," Tony kicked around, walking back to Steve who stood absolutely bewildered. This friend stabbing a friend in the back whilst both backfiring their counters just made every cell in his head hurt. "I'm staying with Steve. You know, Natasha, Clint, you're going to be in a lot of trouble for making me remember this much."

"Yeah," Natasha smiled towards them. "I'll take it. I owe you, Tony."

"And I stick by my guns." Tony's hand lifted, placing it on Steve's shoulder. "Only a super soldier can decide what happens to his race. He's the first and only known of his kind, right?"

Natasha's head lowered, before she hired her head again, smiling at the both of them. "It's good to have you back, Tony."

"It's good to be back," he retorted simply. He moved his hand over to his chin. "Good to know my friends looked after me when I was out." He turned his head to Steve, a smile on his face. "Good to know that I wasn't alone."

"We'll fix this," Steve said, looking at the two spies. "Because we have to."

"You heard him," Tony beamed. "The Star-Spangled man has a plan."

Steve would probably never trust Natasha or Clint or SHIELD in the same way again, but Tony was back. They couldn't take five steps back now. They had to finish this. Find peace for Tony, the super soldier program and try and pull the team back together.

Because those were his friends.

"We're going to sort this out with SHIELD my way," Steve said bitterly. "Then we'll sort out every other detail. And Tony? You're not moving out of my sight."

"Aye, aye, Cap."


	16. XVI: The Calm

It was funny how things had moved so fast and so suddenly. Steve and Tony grabbed a long (and rather expensive) cab back to the tower, whilst Natasha and Clint went to go bite the bullet in SHIELD. They hadn't formulated a plan yet – Steve was still trying to digest everything.

When they stepped back into the tower, Tony took a moment. He stared, eyes moving across the place as if it was the first time he'd been there in a long time. He smiled, tracing his fingers across some random parts of furniture, before turning to Steve.

He looked ready.

 

* * *

 

Steve sat with his thumb circulating the edge of his cup of hot chocolate. It was still freezing out, the odd spell of snow happening once or twice throughout the day. Tony sat opposite him, looking at him with his hand protectively over his mug of coffee.

"So," Steve finally said after breaking the long silence. "You're finally back."

"Seems like it," Tony gave a small smile at that. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For just… Being there." He tapped at the ceramic mug, his head dropping onto his palm as he just looked at the soldier. "I owe you."

"It's what friends do." Steve whispered into the mug before taking a deep swig. "You'd do the same for me."

"On the contrary," Tony extended his finger as if there was a new purpose in his eyes – as if there was more to the story than he originally thought. "I already have."

"…Sorry, what?" He narrowed his eyes. Tony was out of it for months, he didn't do anything for Steve. Sure he gave him a home and Steve respected that more than anyone – but it was hardly on the same level.

"This whole mess." Tony began, opening his free palm. Tony always spoke with his hands. "Was because I was protecting you."

Steve's lip parted. It was as if it had only just clicked into place. Super-Soldier program. How he should decide what happens. How Tony stopped it, stopped however far SHIELD was with the project. He looked down at his drink, partly guilty for not have piecing it together himself.

"You shouldn't have done it like that, Tony." Steve lifted his head, staring back into those eyes that seemed to regain the look of the old Tony. He found himself stopping a smile. "Why didn't you tell me straight away?"

"I needed SHIELD to make their move," he spoke almost casually. "Because I needed more than just you. They would have taken you in if they knew you knew." He gave a short sigh with that, a slow and exhausted one.

"So you thought you'd do it all by yourself." Steve didn't question it. He knew it was fact. The only problem was – he should be mad. Angry and screaming at Tony for doing this to him - Making him worry and watch his friend almost mentally die. "You're an idiot."

"I admit, if could have gone better," Tony offered a small smirk at that. He then stood up rather suddenly, causing the soldier to lift his head in reflex. The billionaire circled the table, before staring down at him when he was at his side. It was a moment of complete silence and Steve was sure neither party knew exactly what was happening yet. "I trust you."

To Steve, that was said more than enough in his lifetime. But the way that Tony said it, made it sound like it was the most precious thing in the world. His eyes softened, mirroring the silk look Tony was currently giving him.

"I know," Steve smiled warmly in response. "I won't let you down."

It was hard to be angry with Tony for long. By the time you had a chance to turn around and speak your mind it was too late. He'd said or done something that made him seem like the warmest wing to crawl under.

Tony remained staring at him for some time; and Steve couldn't help but just give a moment to look at him and think. These passed few months with their highs; lows and having Tony back made him appreciate the billionaire. What exactly he'd go through or put himself in to protect someone he trusts.

Steve never wanted to lose that.

"So what now?" Tony said in a low tone, eyes moving across to his coffee. He returned to it as if he was being called. Typical, really. Tony's first love would always be coffee.

"I actually have no idea, I thought we'd improvise." Steve admitted with a slight smile. "Because we're just so good at it."

"Ouch, my feelings." Tony chuckled as he brought the coffee to his lips. Steve noted the slight shake in his hand – an after effect maybe. There would be time to help Tony with whatever he was trapped in his own mind with – but later. One problem at a time.

"Natasha and Clint are giving our esteemed director the great news." Steve recapped it over in his head, eyes shifting to the steam coming from his drink. "I was hoping we'd just go in and talk. Maybe bust a head or two if we need to. But…"

"…But," Tony smiled at him, knowingly. "We need SHIELD. If we hurt them too bad we threaten our whole nations security. They know that. It's why they don't mind messing up a life or two."

"Right," Steve pointed to him. They were both smiling for some reason, almost as if they were in sync, knew what the other was thinking. "I'll never trust SHIELD again. Not with Fury in charge."

"So we need a new director," Tony shuffled in his seat.

"Someone who knows what to protect," Steve smiled at him, pressing his palms on the table. "Someone who I can trust."

"And someone who trusts you," Tony grinned in return. "Pepper's gonna hate the paper work."

Steve stood at that, as did Tony. They looked at each other for a moment, as if there was more to say, more to do. There always would be, but for now… They had a mission.

"Suit up, Stark." He said almost playfully.

"You're hilarious," Tony grinned at that. He took in Steve's expression. Not only an hour ago, he was ringing with confusion, and Tony had no doubt that Steve was still confused about some areas of the damned crazy multiple backfiring plans from two sneaky and genius pieces. But again, Tony was on the same wavelength as Steve. They needed to fix this and then slowly fix each other.

Funny really, he couldn't picture the future without him now.

"Hey Steve," Tony muttered as the soldier turned on his heel. He glanced back, Tony still grinning from earlier. "You look ready."


	17. XVII: Ready

To Steve, the oddest thing in the world was watching Tony suit up again. Watching the metallic folds of armor encase the genius and wrap across him like a complex security sheet. He, himself, simply pushed on his specially made suit, flexed his fingertips in his gloves and left the cowl down for now.

But Tony was something different, right from the beginning.

He smiled as he left the faceplate up, metallic red sheen blushing across the surface of an older version of his prior suit (that SHIELD probably still had and didn't understand. Steve mused himself at that fact.) But here he was, Tony Stark – Iron Man – Standing by his side with his mind intact… Well. Sort of. But it was enough.

"Alright, Steve…" He turned his head to him. Steve knew he looked tired, this whole thing with SHIELD and Tony and himself being the center of it. "… You know if we don't win, we're probably gonna be labeled prisoners, right?"

Steve let that thought mull over. Imagining them both being taken in, watching Tony go through this whole ordeal again.

No.

This wouldn't happen.

He wasn't alone this time, and he never would be again.

"Are you kidding?" The Captain found a smirk tugging on his features. "I can't let you go to prison. You could barely hold a mug for the passed month. How do expect to keep hold of your own soap?"

Tony's grin dropped. A look of bewildered surprise rushing across those aging features of his that sent Steve to let out an almost child-like laughter.

"…Okay," Tony muttered, diverting his eyes forwards. "So, maybe you can pull a few good jokes now. But you're prettier, so I can almost guarantee that you'd be the one hypothetically dropping the soap."

Steve found his chest light. Having to joke with Tony after so long. For the briefest of seconds, he forgot that they were at war with his friends. Forgot that Tony had almost mentally died. Forgot that they were Captain America and Iron Man. They were just two men, who had fought tooth and nail for each other.

One more bout to go.

"So, what's the plan?"

Steve shuffled at Tony's question. He came off his very brief high of just enjoying the time with Tony. He supposed that would come back sooner or later, but not after sorting things with Natasha and Clint… If they could. Rebuilding SHIELD from the ground up.

"Their security systems are too much for us. I don't know them and I presume you don't. So we can't do a head on attack."

Tony nodded, flicking up his hand with a holographic image of the hellicarrier – Fury's favorite hiding place. "Right," Tony muttered, picking apart the blue prints. "They bumped up security after Clint managed to get in. So, we can't even sneak around without downloading their security systems, which would be damn near impossible with our time limit…"

"So, we do it the old Trojan horse way," Steve muttered, rubbing his chin. "We let them think they've won. Sneak around the back."

"I doubt a big wooden horse is gonna get us in there, Cap."

"No, definitely not. But _you_ will."

 

* * *

 

This whole mess was Stark's fault.

Fury found himself pacing at the news Natasha had just reported him with. Both agents were now being held under protective custody until they dealt with their newest problem. Tony and Steve. And Steve now knew everything.

His leather screeched when he turned his head. It had been three hours since they'd found out. They were planning something.

Something big.

"Director," Maria called out, fingering the keys at her personal terminal. Fury moved over without question, Hill was his second in command, if she had something - it was important. "… We have an incoming transmission from Steve Rogers sir. Flight inbound at vector 43."

"…Patch him through."

On screen, the good Captain's features rolled in. He looked tired, distressed even… And bruised. His hair was messy, he looked like he just fought the world war all over again. "Sir," he said with slight exasperation.

"…Rogers? What's going on?" Fury knew he knew. He knew Fury knew he knew. So what was the point of this? Was this another, different global threat? He couldn't deal with this right now. Not with their first and last line of defense jumbled.

"…You're right," he said simply swallowing the red on his lip. "The super soldier program. I've been thinking it over, and you're right." He rubbed his forehead, wiping some grime from there. "…Tony didn't… I mean, he doesn't see it my way."

Fury's eye widened. Was this for real? Steve Rogers believed in what they were doing? He wasn't buying it. "… You expect me to believe that?" Steve rolled his eyes, rubbing his hand over his own. Flying a jet, covered in dirt and caked in his own blood. He certainly didn't look okay, or even comfortable.

"Sir, I just… I want to make sure everyone I love is protected. I don't believe in your methods, but… I've got the armor with Stark's stolen data in." He looked at the camera briefly, watching Fury almost as carefully as he was. "…It wasn't easy."

"You expect me to think you fought Stark for it?" Fury didn't believe it. And he wouldn't until he had the data in his hands, and even then it would be difficult. "It could be another virus."

"No sir," Steve replied, now wiping red from his lip. "I managed to lock down Tony's armor with an EMP blast. I don't know how to take his armor off, but he's in there. There isn't much time." He looked back, almost to see if he was checking on his cargo. "…Sir, he's gonna wake up angry and I'd rather not be flying a jet when he does."

Fury considered his options. If this was true, he couldn't turn it down. If he did have Stark and was playing for his team now… This whole mess could be fixed within an hour.

"Sir, he looks pretty beaten up," Hill's eyes removed from the console, looking to the director with a slender perked brow. She bought it. But it was Fury's job not to be.

"…Alright, Rogers. You have authorized entry." He paused, watching relief flood across the soldiers face. "You're coming into protective custody and Stark is our problem to deal with."

He watched now. Watching every detail Steve could give him. He watched Steve's eyes narrow, fingers tense and chest puff out. "Sir—Stark's been through enough. We should just hold him until we've made the soldier serum. I'll hold him in custody myself after that."

Protective, still. So that hadn't changed. Believable.

"…We'll hold him in protective custody. That's all."

 

* * *

 

Steve let his chest fall. Nodding once and cutting the communication. He looked back to his cargo, which stood simply with his arms folded. Lips pursed and brow raised. "…I'm not playing poker with you again."

Steve gave a short, breathy laugh and twisted the controls, landing at the vector points issued to him. "Did it go through?" He asked simply.

"Virus is all set."

Steve couldn't believe it. He moved his hand to his jaw, still rubbing across the wounds prior. The plan was simple. Rough Steve up a bit, Steve then handing Tony over... Only they wouldn't get him. The open channel needed to opened from their side, setting in a newer virus. They had a 4 minute window until it was detected. And even that was a rough estimate. But the virus would only be active for 2 minutes, giving them a very small window of opportunity. But even then, a window was a window.

"Why did you punch me really hard?" Steve mumbled, hiding his nervous tendency with a quick jitter of his knee. This was going to be either a very quick fight, or an even quicker defeat.

But this was all they got.

"You can be an ass sometimes," Tony shrugged, eyeing the virus' journey.

"What, _I_ can be an ass?" Steve almost looked bewildered. If Tony had just told him his plan from the start, they could have maybe avoided this whole mess in the first place. He pushed that out of his mind for a while. They had a job to do.

But Tony was still the ass.

 

* * *

 

Fury wasn't stupid. He issued every available agent to point guns at the approaching craft. They even had an EMP and the drug they used on Stark in grenades to use if they had to. If Stark and Rogers thought they could just drive in here without any resistance.

They had another thing coming.

The craft landed without any real trouble. A smooth glide from the handy work of Steve Rogers. He'd commend the Captain for moving against him, but this explanation all added up. Time for Stark and Rogers to have their fight, to subdue him and to come here. Three hours for it.

Clever.

The craft opened, Agents moving forwards with guns aimed towards it. The first wave – And Fury knew this – would be wiped out with the combined efforts of Stark and Rogers. But he issued them forwards anyway.

A horrible screeching sound came next, causing everyone to tense. But not Fury. He watched, waited. Safely behind a few rows of agents. Steve was the first to come out, raising his hands and staggering out, like he'd just come out from a fight anyway.

"Rogers," Fury muttered, perking his brow to him and watching the man move into the waves of agents. "You understand if we detain you, don't you?"

"Yes sir,"

"And Stark?"

He watched now, watched the good Captain's mouth upturn. Fury's eye narrowed. He opened his mouth, about ready to shout 'fire' and then…

Power shut down. Every single light switched out of the encased hangar resulting in heavy darkness to coat the entire way. Before Fury could issue their emergency power, he heard skin slapping skin, huffed groans.

Bullets flared, sending spits of light to fall across it. Agents confused, people fumbling for their weapons or flashlights. The brief millisecond of light showed Steve taking down agents like they were bowling pins. Swift punches followed by heavy kicks.

No one knew what to do, and before they had a chance to understand they were downed.

"Hill!" Fury shouted amongst the yelling and panic. "Hill! Get our reserve power online!"

"Negative!" Her voice shouted over the waves of the others. "Nothings responding!"

" _Stark_." Fury said angrily.

And as if he was summoned, heavy metal footsteps began to silence everyone within the room. A slow, emitting charge coming from the glowing eyes in the dark. Looking directly to Fury.

He would be afraid if he knew what would be coming next.

"Guess you didn't pay your bills, Fury." The voice was horse, laced with metal and promise. As Fury reached for his gun, a glowing circle emitted from the dark, sending the world to move in slow motion.

Something hit Fury's chest. He found himself dropping with a heavy thud and his whole body in paralytic pain.

Stun rounds.

That bastard.

Stark didn't stop at him. He began to fire to the agents, to everyone he could muster as Steve carried on his assault, he guessed. The lights from guns and repulsors flickered as Fury tried to move his body. But the more he moved… The more it hurt.

It felt like hours until something bright hit him. He could hear groans, fitting men on the floor with their leather clad boots tapping against the floor.

Back up power was online.

"Powers back," Tony's voice came from the other. "Virus has used up all it could. Rampant spikes have been eliminated."

"Now what?" Steve muttered, breathless. "Fury?"

"Fury."

 

* * *

 

Steve stepped passed the agents. Some falling about the place whilst they tried to fight the stun rounds Tony had hit them with – Poor bastards. Their target lay sprawled out on the floor, long black coat falling across his back like leathery black wings Steve once saw in an old biblical movie.

His eye was wide, and watching him. It swore revenge in every sense of the word. Steve found it unnerving. But Tony… He was Tony. He moved forwards with the same fearless ambition he always had, leaning down and grabbing the dark angels collar.

"This ends, now." He said calmly, picking the good director up like a ragdoll. "You leave Steve alone, and you resign. You hand the reigns over to me. Someone who won't exploit this organization for what it's worth."

Steve watched as Tony made the demands. He didn't expect Fury to give it all over so easily. And he didn't. He laughed, watching the man with a slight pained breath. "When you work in this business, Stark, you have to do what I do."

Steve figured that was as close to an apology that Tony would get. He just wanted this whole mess to be over. He moved forwards, breathing trying to regulate through his words. "Look, Fury. This super soldier program won't work. You made a mistake. I don't trust you. This team won't work with you in charge."

"So, what? You think it's as easy as me handing this over to you?" His eye drifted passed Tony. Steve saw it. He was looking at something, and that was never a good sign. His head whirled around, looking at Maria Hill - standing there, with a gun of some sort. Nothing he'd ever seen before. "…Do you think we didn't take precautions against you, Stark?"

Tony, if he pulled a face behind the mask, would have shown an expression of knowing, Steve would have guessed. Because, in that moment, Tony dropped Fury like a sack of potatoes. Steve went to shove the Iron Man out of the way, take whatever the hit was for him… But Tony whirled around, brought Steve to his chest and curled around him protectively.

The gun let out a noise that Steve hadn't heard before. Something that echoed and sent two metallic pings against it. It was like a Taser, but nothing else exploded. Nothing made a rippling sound. Did they seriously hit Tony with a Taser?

Then he heard it. Choking sounds from behind the mask. His brows knitted upwards, flickering from one luminous eye to the next. "…Tony?" he said simply. "Tony they're just bullets, they won't harm your armor… Right, Tony?"

The metal man dropped to his knees and Steve did it with him. His heart began to panic. It was just a gun, right? Just a gun. So why… Why was Tony down like this?

"Tony?"

He moved his hands to him. Lifting them to Tony's helmet and pulling it off him with some heavy effort. Everything else didn't matter. The agents coming to, where they were, what kind of trouble they were in.

"…Should…Should have known," he whispered, his face now showing. The metallic tone in his voice was gone and, Steve watched as blood dripped from his lips. "…They…"

"…What have you done?" Steve whirled around to Fury, who stood now, the stun blast wearing off.

"… _What the hell have you done_!?"


	18. XVIII: Make a deal with God

"No…No, no, no…" Steve watched the man made of Iron crumble into his arms. He hadn't checked the wounds on his back. He didn't want to take his eyes off his face. He brushed across his hair, eyes filling up with wet. "Tony, Tony this… This is okay, isn't it?"

Fury remained still, and so did Hill. The agents coming to were watching. Horrified. Everything was still, soundless only for Steve's breathy cries. Like the whole world had stopped just for this moment.

He was crying.

Fury never thought he'd see the day.

"Tony?"

"Acid…Rounds…" He whispered, smiling as more red fell from his lips with his face growing pale - And he was God damn smiling at him like this was the funniest joke of them all. "…They must have… Experimented on my armor… This is an older version and..."

That made sense. They stripped Tony of his armor and when they released him, they must have been afraid that if he remembered he'd come back for revenge. They were protecting themselves, weren't they? But Tony wasn't killing them. He wasn't out for revenge, he just wanted to protect Steve.

He used stun rounds for God's sake. How was that clarification to use a deadly weapon on him? All to _win_? It made him sick.

"Someone… get some help." Steve pressed his forehead against Tony's. He stayed there for what seemed like minutes, but in reality it was seconds. He couldn't hear anything move in the room, any call for help. Not a single beat or leather twisting to even summon it. His eyes lifted, lips tensed.

" **NOW**!"

His voice reverberated across every thing and person in the room, snapping agents to a jump. Maria, whose eyes were glazing over at the reality of what she had done was the first to move. Her hand was placed at her earpiece, voice breaking in to it. "I need a medical team—"

Steve's eyes moved back to Tony, closing his them and rubbing it against the heat of his forehead. He was burning up. That was odd for someone, wasn't it? That meant he wasn't dying, right? It was always supposed to be cold. So there was hope... Right?

"Tony? Tony you can't… I just got you back…" He whispered into his forehead. There was so much they needed to say to each other. He wanted to strip the damn armor off him, hold that fragile body in his arms - but he was unsure if it was what was keeping him together, with the pressure of the metal case holding on to the wound... Stop some of the bleeding.

He could feel his legs turn damp with red. The seasoned soldier's lips trembled-

God… it was Tony's.

"…Yeah this… I didn't plan on this…" The fallen hero said simply. His voice was shaking. Tony Stark's voice was cracking to bits. Acid rounds? What the hell were they doing to him? Was it just like a bullet wound, or worse? "…This…"

"Shh…" Steve whispered with his own pained sound laced in it. He couldn't do it, couldn't go through with the thought of losing Tony again. But this time, there would be no coming back, would there? This would be it, wouldn't it? Not now. He'd just got him back. There wasn't a life without Tony now. There was nothing beyond that. "Please, stop talking. Save your strength."

"…We got so far… Didn't we?" He tried to keep that smile, eyes lifting up to the other. They held so much pain behind them that it hurt Steve to even think about what that man was hiding from him right now. "I mean… We got this far. We did good, right?"

"Yeah…" He felt his voice wavering pathetically now. Tears spilling on to Tony's face. He probably looked like he was in such a state, but he didn't give a damn. He didn't care if he looked weak in front of other soldiers. He'd lost Bucky, Peggy, Howard… And now Tony.

There was too much loss in his life and he couldn't go through it again.

"Don't leave me, Tony." He pleaded in a whisper to him as if Tony could choose, brushing his gloved fingers across his face. "Please, don't… There was stuff we needed to talk about."

"Ah…Sorry…" Tony muttered. He knew exactly what those bullets were doing to him. Soon, the pain would hit him. Hit him hard. "…Why don't you just tell me it in a nutshell, just in case?"

The Iron Man didn't want to move. He knew what would happen if he did. All his nerves would set ablaze. He was expecting a fit soon, or something worse. He could taste the copper in his mouth and could see the twisted face of the Captain above him, blurring in and out of focus.

This wasn't how it was supposed to end.

"…I…" Steve was looking at him, brows knitted upwards. "I can't live without you, Tony." He finally said, watching at how, over the passed few months, Tony had become dependent on him to eat and to sleep. But really, Steve had become dependent on him. Giving him a purpose besides Captain America. Giving him a place in someone's life and giving him back Steve Rogers - not just an outdated hero.

"Cliché huh?" He smiled, feeling the burn in his back increase. He began to tense, hand lifting upwards and brushing the dampness from his cheeks. He wished his glove wasn't there, just so he could feel it. "This is like a movie."

Steve tried to let out a gasping laugh. Couldn't Tony be serious for 2 minutes? He moved his arms around him, repositioning himself to make Tony more comfortable for when help arrived. He just needed to hang on for a few minutes.

"You're impossible," he said simply, tilting his head into Tony's hand. Getting whatever warmth he could from the gauntlet. Funny, really. How he wanted Tony to just move and speak for so long, thought that's all he needed in life and now... He wanted more. "… We have things to do together. You and me."

"Yeah…" His breathing began to quicken and Steve pretended he didn't notice it. He brushed his hand across his hair. He was getting colder now. Why wasn't he screaming in pain? Why wasn't anything happening? Not that Steve wanted it to, it was just… It just wasn't right. "… Yeah I… I had some things to do with you too."

Tony's eyes were laced with tears now and it was breaking Steve's heart. "…We're not good at this, are we?" Steve whispered, fingers moving about his face for the countless time, touching every angle he could.

"No, Hollywood would…" A beat. Steve held his breath. "… Would fire us."

Tony wanted to scream, shout, spasm and vomit. Probably all at once. Those bullets were melting inside of him. The puncture was just the beginning. The pain was excruciating- the acid that melted his suit to burrow in him was dripping across his insides.

But he refused to scream, or cry.

Steve was watching.

He'd protect him until it was over.

Until the end.

"…I can't…" His breathing was hard now, he groaned, blood falling from his lips and the horrified look across Steve's face meant this was it. He could feel the hot tears coming from the soldier and they fell on his face. let out the smallest, crooked smile he could allow; It was over for Tony Stark.

Tony spasmed in Steve's arms, blood, spitting from his lips as the metal slapped the floor. Steve held on to him, not caring how his uniform was stained with blood from the man he tried to save for months. He held him close, stroking his hair, whispering softly. "Shh…" He could feel the tears streaming across his face, feel every single pain in the world. "Shh…"

He could hear slight moans, Tony's eyes flew wide as he coughed, tried to breathe and was failing. How long was he trying to hold that back?

"…Just relax, Tony…"

He whispered, closing his eyes as Tony's movements seemed to come to a stand still. He was just stopping... Stopping in his arms.

"… _Shh_ …"


	19. XIX: Sail

Steve, when he looked back on everything, would muse about how everything ended that day. When Tony just stopped moving in his arms, that the medical team were always just that one second too late.

Too be honest, at the end of it all, Steve expected to be taken in by SHIELD, expected to be substituted to the same torture Tony was to get him to submit. Steve didn't know where Tony hid those plans, so he didn't have a thing to bargain with. But he would always remember, mouthing the words to him somewhere whilst he was asked to step away from his bleeding form.

Mouthing the words just in case Tony could hear them.

And just like a movie, it might have either been too late, or just near the end. To be honest, he never knew if Tony heard them or not.

Everything happened so fast after that. After watching men strip Tony from his armor and begin to work on his still body. He knew that they were unsettled by whatever had happened to him, whatever those bullets did.

Steve would have beat Fury to a pulp if he could tear his eyes away from the sight. But he never could.

This whole ordeal would end here.

 

* * *

 

"… _A video testimony was filed against SHIELD when…"_

" _Tony Stark's mystery bullets analyzed as a prototype weapon from Hammer—"_

" _-SHIELD deny all and every accusation thrown at them—"_

"- _Director Fury denies—"_

"- _Agent's confess upon the death—"_

"- _Captain America testifies in the supreme court at how—"_

"… _SHIELD found guilty for the attack on Tony Stark—"_

" _Director Fury forced to resign—"_

"… _You are unjust, unfit and unaware at how to treat heroes, Mr. Fury—"_

" _Fury launches defense campaign at how things work—"_

" _What else has SHIELD gotten away with?"_

" _SHIELD now open-office and Government security is down—"_

" _Second in command refuses…"_

"… _Captain America steps up to take the challenge—"_

" _I feel safe with Captain America in charge. None of this shady business behind…"_

" _SHIELD's files relating to the Tony Stark incident made public,"_

" _What else has SHIELD hidden from us? Find out tonight…"_

" _Captain America opens up doors to new heroes for SHIELD training…"_

" _Steve Rogers comments on Tony Stark, tonight, live."_

" _People gather flowers for the esteemed billionaire—"_

" _People pray for his soul, enemies and friends alike."_

" _Tony Stark is—"_

* * *

__  
**4 months Later.  
**

**  
**

The whirlwind of events seemed to blur for Steve, how everything panned out and worked for the better. Better than Tony could have planned. All this was accidental, all of the dominoes falling into place and resulting in a better world and a better security.

Steve was never one for suits, but he was made to wear one when possible. Sitting in the office that he had meant to have for Tony and Pepper – Head of SHIELD. Replacing Director Fury after Clint and Natasha had escaped their security when the virus hit and released videos on how Tony was tortured and his death. A sort of redemption for what they'd done.

Steve had never heard of it, but Clint posted it on _4chan_ for some conspiracies and it went crazy on the internet. Catching the attention of the media and was unstoppable to Fury. An online sensation - Powered by people.

Tony would have been proud.

Shortly after that, with evidence mounting against him and support from the people all across the globe, Fury was forced to resign, although from what Steve had heard, he'd been playing cards under the table and wound up somewhere else in the line of the countries defense. Just not SHIELD anymore.

He didn't chase him, although he had thought about it. Instead, he wound up filling the gaping hole in the countries security as head of SHIELD. Tony originally was going to go with this spot, fuse it and have Pepper run the paper work. It would have been great, except now it was Steve instead and Pepper. Both of them running SHIELD with her expertise in running a business and Steve's compassion and the ability to get other heroes to follow.

Security was better than it had ever been.

Heroes now stepping up to the plate to have a piece of contained action, to help save people. To avenge everything that had been lost.

Bruce wound up being pushed to the side for most of it. Having been locked in a lab at the bottom of SHIELD working on Tony's condition and never told of it's reprise until it was too late. They didn't want the Hulk finding out the truth and getting... Well. Angry. And it took Steve a long time to calm him down after he heard the news about Tony.

He was shouting things like " _I didn't even got a chance to say goodbye_."

Steve smiled at Pepper as she moved to trace more paperwork into another section, it had been a long day. He could tell by the way her hair curled out of her perfect pony tail. Steve could also see she missed her job as Tony's PA, but she got a considerable pay rise and a more esteemed title here. And with Tony... The way he was, she was better off here now.

Steve leaned back in his chair, still trying to wrap his head around the events that had followed over the last year. Tony's disappearance, his regain, his fall. He witnessed all of it and was by his side for the most part.

From start to finish.

" _Well, well, well._ "

Came the voice from the doorway Pepper and exited from not a few minutes before. "Someone's doing well for themselves."

Steve picked his head up. If he held any emotion against this man, he didn't show it. He stiffed his lip, eyes narrowing against him. He would punch this man with all he had if he wasn't worried about the consequences.

"Well, forgive me. But _someone_ had to step up into this place. It certainly wasn't going to be you now, was it?"

There was a silence that hung thick. Both men staring down at each other. Steve, watching intently. Wanting nothing more than to grab the other and throw him about the place for all he had done now that he had time to settle his emotions and think clearly... Enough.

"Yeah," a slight laugh laced the others voice. "Suppose you kind of had to."

Steve stood up; his frame looked a little thinner in black, (That's why Pepper said he would suit it) and straightened himself out. Unlike Tony in his suits, Steve always had the top button done up, and the tie neatly on his neck. No questions. Military. He moved over to the intruder, lifting his hand and flexing his fingers.

"I should kill you for everything you've done," Steve said quietly, eyes still short on him. "All this, now that I've had time to think about it… Was your fault."

"Yeah well...Even the good bits?"

His arms lifted, pulling the short, wounded man into a strong embrace. His stiff lip was replaced with a sobbing smile, holding on to the man who's fault this all was. The man who scared him half to death. The man who insisted on doing everything alone.

"Just like the movies, huh?"

He felt his arms encase him. An embrace he'd waited for, for so long. One he'd dreamed of every day since that fateful one 4 months ago.

"You're a horrible man, Tony Stark."

"I am." A smile. A real one. Although he was still wobbling on his feet, still patched up, Steve knew Tony had come to do something important. After all, surviving an attack on his insides and taking 4 months to recover this well - it better had been important.

"I'm not alone anymore, am I?"

"Never." Steve whispered into his collar. The man was barely holding it all together and still stubborn enough to walk around. "Never again." He'd get him back into a bed soon. Just for now? He wanted this moment. He deserved it.

Tony didn't say anything after that. But that was alright. Steve didn't have to hear it back from him. This was how Tony showed his love. Getting up, walking to the office and reciting some smart ass comments whilst his insides were knitting together still, just to see the soldier; the man he owed everything to.

Steve knew he'd say it one day.

But until then, some things were better left unsaid.

Sometimes silence spoke _volumes_.

 

 

- _End._


End file.
